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UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. 


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STUDIES IN HONOR OF 
BASIL L. GILDERSLEEVE 











Studies in Honor 


of 


Basil L. Gildersleeve 



























The Lord Galtimore Press 
THE FRIEDENWALD COMPANY 
BALTIMORE, MD., U. S. A. 


Copyright, 1902, by 
Tue Jonns Hopkins Press 


TO 
Bast? Lanneau Gilderafeeve 
IN COMMEMORATION OF 
THE SEVENTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF HIS BIRTH 
THESE STUDIES ARE DEDICATED 
AS A TOKEN OF AFFECTION, GRATITUDE, AND ESTEEM 


BY HIS PUPILS 


θεὸς εὔφρων εἴη λοιπαῖς εὐχαῖς 





OCTOBER 23, 1831 


OCTOBER 23, Ι90Ο1 


= 
πὸ 





CONTENTS 


PAGE 

RENEE NEO STO ETC 1 © ONEMTSSIOINs:clainicfeieicce oi δον a sje esse, abalone bivls\ olde eiviere I 
By Charles A. Briggs. 

Homeric EcHoEs IN MATTHEW ARNOLD’s ‘ BALDER DEAD’....... 19 
By Wilfred P. Mustard. 

PP τ ρα UNIT NO NO ΞΕ See Aci clelg'o.vic, cisietntereta sieral gio eisioe! oimisvelaia δ Ὸ 20 
By Wiliam Hamilton Kirk. 

BETES VANE OM IC = GODS sco ancien oe we θὲ ον ποτ Hale widiclotlesiaata ἰὰ ἀπ τατος 37 


By Maurice Bloomfield. 


THE USE OF THE SIMPLE FOR THE COMPOUND VERB IN PERSIUS... 49 
By Harry Langford Wilson. 
THE ΜΟΤΙΟΝ OF THE VOICE IN CONNECTION WITH ACCENT AND 
INGERNEUATVARSTS AND) UHESIS « ον <lais's sm minis on cia tle ce sieges dts 57 
By C. W. L. Johnson. | 


ΕΞ EME PPS ara os Sid i hiveieiv s ciaiw oes wale mnlg δὐείονο εν seb eimndals 77 
By £. G. Sthler. 


/THE ATHENIAN IN HIS RELATIONS TO THE STATE........--+-ee000% 87 
By Charles Albert Savage. 
User OF THE SUFFIXES -ANUS AND -INUS IN FORMING POSSESSIVE 
ADJECTIVES FROM NAMES OF PERSONS........eccesesecsecees 05 
By Robert S. Radford. 


SRP ΑΝ (TIE VASSYREAN) LGMPIR ED cie-cicists oo aise ὁ evita aisles te tine sieve 113 
By Christopher Johnston. 


Ne emisses, ne poposcisses, AND SIMILAR EXPRESSIONS.......-..0005 123 
By 275 iC Eimer. 


NGDRESSON THE ALATIN VERBS OF RATING «0.50.0 50'0.0 occ ticviescseve oie 131 
By Gordon J. Laing. 


iE CENDAPODY IN- GREEK POETRY. ὡς; ον ον οὐ ccccncciseceics Sete Ae 137 
By £. H. Spieker. 
Horace AND Lucitius: A Stupy oF HorRAcE SERM. I, 10........ 151 


By George Lincoln Hendrickson. 


Vili CONTENTS. 


= PAGE 
THE AIM AND RESULTS ORJELATO'S LHEAETETUS: . ca «sale τον πη, LOO 


By W. J. Alexander. 


On THE USES OF THE PREPOSITIONS IN HOMER.....-+-eeeeeeeees ISI 
By A. S. Haggete. 


Aw ERRONEOUS PHONETIC SEQUENCE 4 clickidccecact'eeteiswaeeesios: SOM 
By Edwin W. Fay. 
THE CONNECTION BETWEEN Music AND Poetry IN EARLY GREEK 
TEPPER RAT URES cid ots pete ceket chaperones ein elec ch oevaie ἐφ aie ἡ δ τς ΤΙ ΖΕ Ὶ 
By A. Rushton Fairclough. 


SoME STATISTICS ON THE ORDER OF WORDS IN GREEK........+++. 220 
By Herman Louis Ebeling. 


ΧΕ ATHENS OB ARTSTOPHANES costae acre scneyo’svelgiel oleisiotoiel uelanstereie eis creme 
By Mitchell Carroll. 


ON THE THEORY OF THE IDEAL CONDITION IN LATIN...........+. 253 
By Gonzalez Lodge. 


On THE CASE CONSTRUCTION OF VERBS OF SIGHT AND HEARING 
TEN ΟΣ ΕΟ ler πη λοις ὁ lov ckarouat aera sera are Tas baa ae ote een OS 


By James William Kern. 


Tue ScENIC VALUE OF THE MINIATURES IN THE MANUSCRIPTS 


ORMDER ENCE τ ὐεννν τινα εἰν οὐ sxarsaloccieinle sae δῦ ΡΘΕ προ ΡΩΝ 
By John W. Basore. 
REE ΠΡ Χο 9: hoch eentonacede aes Sues ae hare et 4s ances ΣΟ τον 


By Kirby Flower Smith. 


Ingenium IN THE ABLATIVE OF QUALITY AND THE GENITIVE OF 


ALITY is faletsrs e's 08's Wine wayne viuicis op Sapna aaa ee © eee eee 
By George Vail Edwards. 
MAGIC In THEOKRITOS AND VERGIL . ....sc00 ceases cc ssun ay BABA is 


By Morris C. Sutphen. 


THE INTERPRETATION OF EURIPIDES’ ALCESTIS.......-..0+-e+e00- 329 
By Augustus Taber Murray. 


CHIASMUS IN THE EPpiIsTLES OF CICERO, SENECA, PLINY AND 
EURO NTO icin te evateusloxsiave evarsteielerehets idl fro lee alaleuletaseha ἄγειν awe bye τ τ τ eine Aaah 


On Causes CONTRIBUTORY TO THE LOSS OF THE OPTATIVE, ETC., 
EN LATER GRBEK (2), i's soos Saeed εἶτ ἐξ hae eel Pena eee ee ee 


By francis G. Allinson. 


CONTENTS. ix 


Tue ETYMOLOGY AND MEANING OF THE SANSKRIT Root 7@........ 357 
By Jens A. Ness. 

RUE CHNIC OF SHAKSPERE 5 SONNETS js ον (s/c/s/9 ον νι visio ciclevel a's e ales 363 
By Thos. R. Price. 

Hak sATTITUDE) OF ATICUIN TOWARD | VERGIDG sc <\sic clas sees sels csias «0377, 
By Omera Floyd Long. 

INGLES! ΝΠ IS) SYRTAN) GODDESS), cil sme dn ἡ τάν πῶς νῶι 387 
By Daniel A. Penick. 

PHP GREPTING IN ΤΈΓΕ IETTERS OF CICERO) dieses) einsstainiceies sealers 305 
By £. M. Pease. 

OraTION XI oF Dio Curysostomus.. A StuDyY IN SOURCES...... 405 
By Walter A. Montgomery. 

LHe) OSEOn aque AND GG IN SILVER ILATIN .«<o2.0: sass eeuelonmae 413 
By Emory B. Lease. 

INDICATIVE QUESTIONS WITH μή AND dpa pij.......eceececeeceees 427 
By /. £. Harry. 

RIME-PARALLELISM IN OLD H1iGH GERMAN VERSE...........+000> 435 
By Bert John Vos. 

Dip EURIPIDES WRITE σκύμνων HIPP. 1276?.........0.eneceeees 443 
By Henry N. Sanders. 

4 

MPP CAR ΤΙ ΠΤ ΠΝ, CAFOLLONTUS) ἸΣΉΓΟΘΓΕΙΘ 515 ΠΡ ΩΣ cyela era nicl ΤΟ τὰν πιο ε ον 449 
By George Melville Bolling. 

My FOR ov BEFORE ΓΙΛΊΟΙΑΝ:. .. «Ὁ ὐν νον το ον νυ ο τς ἐόν το cscs seccees 471 
By Edwin L. Green. 

PUMNAGTG HERA GMEN TIO By UONalisieiele allele: vicusiciesialeleisyaieiaiencis Αι δ κι sevelel sian 481 
By John Adams Scott. 

SREPE Vie PAPEFOR) CNV AVES GC ELVIOUS Is a aiielai/a/aiselavel sie snelclalicny δ δ δι εὐδία οι δι τ θεν ἃ 483 
By) as 2. Lees. 

Tue RELATION OF THE RHYTHM OF POETRY TO THAT OF THE 

SPOKEN LANGUAGE WITH ESPECIAL REFERENCE TO ANCIENT 
CSRS TIS SAN TU AAMT Dia ΜΔ ἰδ ΚΑ Δ ΠῚ DE a ey A αλὴ ὉΠ ΜΙ ον φῆριιονεῖς 497 § 


ay 


WEY ΑΝ } 
᾿ wae Mi ᾿ 
Ἂν... ᾿ 
᾽ν ἣν ; % ses 





THE APOSTOLIC COMMISSION. 


Critical investigation of the four Gospels and the Book of Acts 
in recent years has thrown a flood of light upon the origin of 
Christianity. I propose in this article to use this light in a study 
of the Apostolic Commission. 

Early in his ministry Jesus called Simon to leave all and follow 
him (Mk. i. 16-20). He named him Peter, the rock, as the fore- 
most of the disciples, their chief and spokesman. The Gospels 
differ as to the time of this naming: Mk. iii. 16; Mt. x. 2, xvi. 
17-19; Lk. vi. 14; John i. 40-42; but a critical study of these 
passages makes it probable that it did not take place until late in 
Jesus’ ministry, when his Messiahship was recognized by the 
Twelve.’ 

Jesus also called James and John, who with Simon constituted 
the innermost circle of the Twelve, to whom Jesus entrusted the 
highest privileges. Next to these was Andrew. Levi (Matthew) 
also had a special call. 

Seven others with these five were selected from the body of the 
disciples (Mk. iil. 14-19) to constitute the Twelve, who were con- 
stantly with Jesus as his companions in his ministry. There can 
be little doubt that St. Peter was the chief of the Twelve and that 
there was a primary group of four—Peter and Andrew, James 
and John. ~Philip was first of the second group, composed of 
Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew and Thomas. The third group 
was James, son of Alphaeus, Thaddaeus, Simon the Zealot, and 
Judas Iscariot. These three groups constituted the Twelve, who 
were sent forth in pairs, with authority from Jesus to preach, and 
teach, and heal during his ministry (Mk. vi. 7-13 =Mtth. x. 
I seq.= Lk. ix. 1 seq.). The four lists vary somewhat in the 
order of the names within the groups ; but in no case in the four 
lists of Mk., Mtth., Lk. and Acts is there any change of the names 
out of the three groups. 


1See Briggs, Study of Holy Scripture, pp. 514-516. 


tN 


CLA Be Gok 


The order of names in Acts (i. 13) differs somewhat from the 
order of Luke (vi. 13-16) as well as from those of Matthew 
(x. 2-4) and Mark (iii. 14-19). 

In the first group John’s name comes second in Acts, whereas 
in Mtth. and Lk. it is last, the name of Andrew having taken its 
place in these lists. It seems that the order of names comes from 
the Jerusalem source,’ and that John is coupled with Peter in the 
list as he is in the history. Philip comes first in all the lists of 
the second group. But the other three names appear in an 
entirely different order in Acts from that of any of the Gospels: 
Thomas, Bartholomew, Matthew. There is no reason for this 
that appears in the history. In the third group James, son of 
Alphaeus, is always first and Judas Iscariot last. The order of 
Simon and Thaddaeus differs. In Luke and Acts, Simon is first ; 
in Mark and Matthew, Thaddaeus is first. The reason for this 
change lies below the surface of the history. We may think of a 
change in their relative historical importance. 

The original term used by Jesus for these Twelve was simply 
the Twelve. The term apostle seems to be peculiar to the usage 
of St. Paul, in his epistles, and of St. Luke, in the Gospel and the 
Acts.2, We may say with confidence that the word afostle, as 
applied to the Twelve, was not in any of the primitive sources, 
whether the Logia of Matthew, the original Gospel of Mark, the 
original John, or the Hebraistic source of the history of the 
Church at Jerusalem. In all cases in the Book of Acts, it came 
from the final author and not from the source. The few uses® in 
the Gospels other than Luke’s are redactional. The term afostle 
was a generic term, including in Pauline usage the Twelve and 
also Paul, Barnabas, and many others; an indefinite number of 
apostles. The number twelve was a limited number selected by 
Jesus as his companions during his earthly life. It could never 
be exceeded. Paul and Barnabas were Afostles, but they could 
never enter into the group of the Zwelve. The treachery and 
death of Judas removed him from the number of the Twelve. 
The first thing they had to do was to fill his place and make 
their number complete. It seems at first strange that Jesus him- 


1There was probably a Hebraistic Jerusalem source used by Luke as the 
basis of the first part of the Book of Acts. 

2McGiffert, Christianity in the Apostolic Age, pp. 647 seq. 

3Mt. x. 2; Mk. iii. 14, vi. 30. 


THE APOSTOLIC COMMISSION. 3 


self did not select the substitute for Judas during the forty days; 
and some have inconsiderately argued that the Twelve acted 
without the authority of Jesus and the influence of the Divine 
Spirit in the selection of the substitute for Judas, and have even 
gone so far as to represent that the Lord had really in mind to 
substitute St. Paul for Judas. But this is certainly a mistake. 
St. Paul maintains his rights as an Apostle, immediately commis- 
sioned by the Lord himself, and his equality in this respect with 
St. Peter, St. John and St. James (Gal. i. 11 seq.). But nowhere 
does he, or any one else for him, claim that he was one of the 
Twelve. Indeed, he had not the qualifications to be one of the 
Twelve. 

Acts i. 15-26 gives an account of the assembly of the brethren 
for the selection of a substitute for Judas. This narrative in the 
main comes from the source, although it is probable that vers. 
166-19 contain additional material from the author of Acts. 
This explanatory gloss gives the more specific application of the 
Psalm to Judas, and gives an account of the death of Judas in the 
Field of Blood. The words aposi/es and apostleship are also 
glosses. But the story itself is original to the source. The 
qualification to be one of the Twelve was: 

“Who have companied with us all the time that the Lord 
Jesus went in and went out among us (Luke adds: ‘beginning 
from the baptism of John, unto the day that he was received up 
from us’): of these must one become a witness with us of his 
resurrection” (ver. 21-22). 

Two were proposed: 1) Joseph Barsabbas-Justus; 2) Matthias. 
The choice did not depend on the Eleven, or on the 120 
’ brethren assembled, but upon the Lord himself. Only Jesus, the 
Messiah, could make the choice. As the Divine Spirit had not 
been imparted, they were forced to use the sacred lot, the deter- 
mination of which, according to the Old Testament usage, was 
with God the searcher of minds; but which, according to their 
new conception that Jesus was Lord and also searcher of minds, 
could only come from him. The lot decided for Matthias, and 
the number of the Twelve was complete. It should be said at 
this point that the choice of a substitute for Judas was made, 
not because he had died, but because he had betrayed his trust 
and had by his own wicked act departed from his high office. 
No one thought of selecting a substitute for St. James when he 


4 ChE BRIGGS: 


died, or for any other of the Twelve. The Twelve continued to 
be the Twelve when they departed to the higher life. They 
became the foundations of the New Jerusalem (Rev. xxi. 14). 
The Twelve could not possibly have successors as the 7welve, 
any more than their number could be increased. They might, 
however, have successors as apostles, an office which they shared 
with St. Paul, St. Barnabas, and others. It is improper, therefore, 
to speak of the Twelve Apostles as a class by themselves. The 
Twelve were set apart as those favored with the especial intimacy 
of Jesus during his earthly life; chosen to be with him during 
that life, to bear witness of that life and of his resurrection; and 
St. Peter was their chief. But in addition to this they subse- 
quently became afostles, and as such shared the apostolate with 
many others. St. Paul, St. Barnabas, and others were their 
equals as apostles. Whether the Apostles as apostles had suc- 
cessors is a question which is debatable. Whether the Twelve 
had successors or could have successors is not debatable. It was 
impossible from the very nature of the case. 

The same question emerges with reference to St. Peter, as with 
reference to the Twelve—namely, whether he could have suc- 
cessors. If the Twelve could have no successors, then St. Peter 
as the chief of the Twelve could have no successor. We have 
seen, however, that the Twelve were also apostles, and as such 
had a ministry to the Church other than the witness which was 
their peculiar privilege as the Twelve; and that this apostolate 
they shared with St. Paul, St. Barnabas, and others; and that the 
apostolate therefore might have successors, as it had additions 
made to it during the lifetime of the Apostles. If now St. Peter 
was not only primate of the Twelve, but also primate of the 
Apostolate and so of the Church in other relations than in those 
peculiar to the Twelve, then it is quite possible that St. Peter 
might have successors in the primacy and the headship over the 
Church. 

The narrative represents that 120 of the ἀδελφοί were present 
when the selection of Matthias was made. We may assume that 
Joseph Barsabbas and Matthias, Mary the mother of Jesus, and 
his brothers, James and Jude, were present; and that those 
unnamed were women as well as men (Acts i. 14, 15, 23). These 
statements probably come from the source and not from the final 
author. St. Paul, in I. Cor. xv. 6, states that Jesus appeared to 


THE APOSTOLIC COMMISSION. 5 


above 500 brethren at once. Even this number can hardly 
represent the sum total of the brotherhood that Jesus had 
gathered about himself during his brief earthly ministry. 

In addition to the Twelve, St. Luke reports a group of dis- 
ciples named the Seventy (Lk. x. 1). It is doubtless a later 
statement than those derived from the Logia and St. Mark, which 
know nothing of such a body ; but there is no sufficient reason to 
doubt its genuineness. 

The story of Luke is: On leaving Galilee for his Perean 
ministry Jesus set apart 70, those whom he had called to follow 
him, who should go before him in pairs and prepare the way for 
his ministry, by heralding the advent of the kingdom of God and 
working miracles in his name. The reason why Luke mentions 
the Seventy is that he alone reports the Perean ministry. The 
Logia, Mark, Matthew and John know but little of any work in 
Perea, and therefore had no occasion to speak of the ministry of 
the 70. 

It is clear, however, from the Logia and Mark, that other men 
than the Twelve were called by Jesus to follow him in special 
ministry, abandoning property and family and all things for his 
sake and the proclamation of the gospel of the kingdom. There 
is no evidence that the group of 70 disciples was continued. 
They probably were a special selection for this service. But that 
which the 70 represented—a larger group of ministerial followers 
of Christ than the Twelve—was certainly continued. In all prob- 
ability the number 70 had increased very greatly. It is quite 
possible that the most of the 120 brethren were followers in this 
special and stricter sense; and it is not beyond reason to suppose 
that even the 500 witnesses of the resurrection were mostly repre- 
sentatives of the disciples of Christ, and not the whole body of 
them, and so made up of men and women of this class. 

We may safely conclude, therefore, that the whole brotherhood 
of Jesus, in the week before Pentecost, in Galilee, Perea, Samaria 
and Jerusalem, where Jesus and the Twelve and the Seventy had 
preached and wrought miracles, consisted of several thousand 
men and women; that upwards of 1oo of these were disciples 
who had received the special call to follow him in a ministry 
which required the renunciation of property and family ties, and 
exclusive attention to the preaching of the gospel; that the 
Twelve were the recognized chiefs of this new religious com- 
munity, and that St. Peter was the recognized head of them all. 


6 σου ΟΣ: 


There is no report in the Gospel of Mark (apart from the 
appendix), or in the Logia, of a commissioning of the disciples by 
Jesus, subsequent to his resurrection. But there can be little 
doubt that such a commission is mingled in the extracts from the 
Logia given in connection with the sending forth of the Twelve 
and the Seventy; for many of these utterances of Jesus had 
reference to a wider and a larger ministry than any reported in 
the Gospels during the lifetime of Jesus. From these statements 
of the Logia we may gather the following summary statement: 
Jesus commissioned the disciples to preach the kingdom of God. 
He identified himself with them; so that the treatment of them 
would be regarded as the treatment of him. These disciples were 
required to love him supremely, to forsake relatives, property, and 
all other duties, and to follow him supremely in poverty, self- 
denial, crossbearing, and obedience to his word." 

The Apocalypse of Jesus has inserted in it (Mk. xili. 9-13 = Lk. 
ΧΧΙ. 12-19) a logion, which appears also in the commission of the 
Twelve (Mtth. x. 17-22). A comparison of the three texts gives 
the following three strophes, each of 6 trimeter lines: 


Te 


‘* But take heed to yourselves. 
They will deliver you up to Sanhedrim, 
And in synagogues will ye be beaten, 
And before governors will ye stand, 
And it will turn out unto you for a testimony, 
And unto the nations must the gospel be preached. 


108 


‘‘ And when they lead you to deliver you up, 
Be not anxious how ye shall speak ; 
For it will be given in that hour, 
That which ye shall speak ; 
For it is not ye who speak, 
But it is the Spirit that speaketh. 


1 Mtth. viii. 21-22 = Lk, ix. 59-60. 


Lipps ah “ποτ τ 2-τι. 

rian > ak 49 == 085) 5 τ em Gl 

COT ame Sen Si) SILANE Ome 

OMNI κυ], 7. BEV mee 5. παν δῆς 


See Briggs, Messiah of the Gospels, p. 238 seq. 


THE APOSTOLIC COMMISSION. ἦι 


III. 


‘“‘ And brother will deliver up his brother, 
And father will deliver up his child, 
And children will rise up against their parents, 
And they will put them to death, 
And ye will be hated by all; 
But he that endureth to the End will be saved.”’ 


The Hebrew Logion would be (following in the main the usage 
of Delitzsch, N. T. in Hebrew, but keeping in view the rhythm of 
Hebrew Wisdom) : 


p> ynwas> pwn ons) 
ΤΣ ὙΠΟ pons DD” 
ΠΡΌΣ AI SM 
ory vans yom) 
mays ood aan 

p32 sap πο) 3 ΠῚ 


poms ynpp) ἸΘ ὅτ ΣΝ 
ITN PX une 
sen nyws jn 
SAN DIN AWA 
ὉΠ ons Ν 5 
S255 ΠΥ OND 


ΠΝ ΤΩΝ ΠΝ DA" 
5 ΩΝ IN DD" 
ὈΓΊΣΝ ΟΝ D3 ἸΘῚΡΙ 
DMN ἸΠ 2) ΠΟΣῚ 

ΟΝ 5532 ΝῊ yan) 
yoy poray monsm 


I. 1. Mt. has προσέχετε δὲ ἀπὸ τῶν ἀνθρώπων, which does not seem to be so 
original or natural as Mk., βλέπετε dé ὑμεῖς ἑαυτούς. Lk. omits this line. 

2. This line is omitted by Lk. but given by Mt. 

3. Mt. is more specific, using μαστιγώσουσιν, scourge, for Mk., δαρήσεσθε, 
which may be original. Lk. generalizes: ‘‘ But before all these things 
they will lay their hands on you and will persecute you, delivering you up 
to the synagogues and grisons,’’ 

4. All have &zzgs as well as governors. But it makes the line too long, 
and is a natural insertion from the history. The order of the two is 


8 CA BRIGGS. 


inverted in Lk. Mk. has σταθήσεσθε ; Lk., ἀπαγομένους, Mt., ἀχθήσεσθε, all 
going back on the original JM)M J. ἕνεκεν ἐμοῦ is explanatory addition. 


5. Lk., ‘It shall turn unto you for ἃ testimony,”’ may 55 ἘΠ ΠΝ 


seems to preserve the original line which is interpreted in Mt. and Mk. as 
‘for a testimony unto them.”’ 

6. This line is omitted by Lk., is condensed by Mt. into καὶ τοῖς ἔθνεσιν, and 
enlarged by Mk. into εἰς πάντα τὰ “ἔθνη πρῶτον δεῖ κηρυχθῆναι τὸ εὐαγγέλιον, 
which may be regarded as an explanatory addition, making the line too 
long. Cf. Mt. xxiv. 14. 


II. τ. Condensed by Mt. into παραδῶσιν ὑμᾶς ; omitted by Lk. 

2. Mtth. has πῶς ἢ τί, how or what, which is enlargement. It is para- 
phrased by Lk.: ‘‘ Settle it therefore in your minds not to meditate before- 
hand how to answer.’’ ow of Mtth. and Lk. is more probable intrinsi- 
cally than what of Mk. 

3 and 4. These two lines must be restored by conjecture. They are 
condensed in Mk. into: “ Whatsoever shall be given to you in that hour, 
that speak’’; which is prose. Mtth. has the first line correctly; but only 
τί λαλήσητε of the second line. Combining this with the first words of 
Mark’s sentence, we get the second line. Lk. paraphrases, and combines 
these two lines with the remaining two, thus: “ For I will give you a mouth 
and wisdom, which all your adversaries will not be able to withstand or to 
gainsay.’’ 

5. This line is the same in Mk, and Mtth. 

6. This line varies. In Mk. itis ἀλλὰ τὸ πνεῦμα τὸ ἅγιον. But Jesus never 
used holy with Szrit—that is Lukan, and redactional in other gospels. 
Mtth. has τὸ πνεῦμα τοῦ πατρὸς ὑμῶν τὸ λαλοῦν ἐν ὑμῖν. This, without the 
qualifying τοῦ πατρὸς ὑμῶν and the explanatory ἐν ὑμῖν, gives us the original 
line, It was the usage of Jesus to speak of “the Spirit.’’ Lk. explains 
this as the personal direction of Jesus himself, which is a later concep- 
tion and interpretation. 


III. 1. εἰς θάνατον is explanatory addition from line 4; otherwise the 
same in Mtth. and Mk. 

2. The Hebrew would repeat vb., as Delitzsch, Heb, N. T.; Mt. x. 21. 

3. This is the same in Mtth. and Mk. 

4. The line is defective in both texts; καὶ θανατώσουσιν αὐτοῖς, Mk., Mt. 
We might conjecture subject; this should then sum up the three previous 
lines in a demonstrative ™f9m. But Mtth. xxiv. 9, condensed in Lk. xxi. τό, 


is doubtless based on the same original as Mk. xili, 12, and it suggests a 
change of subject here rather than firstin line 5. Mt., καὶ ἀποκτενοῦσιν ὑμᾶς. 
Lk,, καὶ θανατώσουσιν ἐξ ὑμῶν, But on the whole it seems best to read mort) 
BM Fit’. 

5. διὰ τὸ ὄνομά μου is an explanatory addition, making the line too long. 

6. The οὗτος makes the line too long, and is an emphatic addition, 


THE APOSTOLIC COMMISSION. 9 


We may not be able to determine when this commission was 
given, and whether it was given to the Twelve or to the larger 
ministry. But this much is plain: we may know without doubt 
essentially what Jesus said to them. Their ministry was to be 
before the Sanhedrim, in synagogues, and before Roman gov- 
ernors; just as Jesus’ ministry was. They would give their 
testimony in these places and suffer for Christ’s sake. They 
were not only to preach the gospel in the land of Palestine, but 
also unto the nations. It is not evident whether this ministry was 
conceived as to the Jews and the proselytes scattered among the 
nations, or as an effort to proselytize the nations beyond the 
scope of the proselyting of the Pharisees. It is not likely that it 
was, as given by Jesus, in the specific Pauline sense of later date. 
It was not inconsistent with it, but it did not compel that interpre- 
tation. It did, however, conceive of a world-wide ministry. 

There was a specific promise of the presence and guidance of 
the Divine Spirit in this world-wide ministry; and not only a 
general guidance, but a specific, one may say an ecstatic, guid- 
ance ; for the Spirit is conceived as so taking possession of them, 
that they speak not their own words but the words of the Divine 
Spirit. It is also distinctly taught that they will suffer persecu- 
tion, and that patient endurance until the End of the Age, the 
Second Advent of the Lord, is, necessary for their full and final 
salvation. 

One finds in the four Gospels a large amount of material 
relating to the work that the Twelve and the larger ministry had 
to do, in the world, in following the Master. It is impracticable 
for us to take all this into consideration. But it is necessary to 
consider whether Jesus gave a final commission to his ministry 
after his resurrection, and if so, what was the extent of that com- 
mission. The reports are so different in the Gospels, that we 
must use all the resources of literary and historical criticism to 
get at the real facts of the case. There is, as we have seen, no 
report of a final commission in the Logia or in Mark. The 
report in the Appendix to Mark is a general statement coming 
from a late date. Mtth. xxviii. 18-20, however, gives us a com- 
mission in connection with the appearance of Jesus to the Eleven 
on a mountain in Galilee. A careful study of this commission 
shows us that in all probability a logion or original sentence of 
Jesus underlies it; but that it has been enlarged and explained 
after the method of the Gospel of Matthew in other similar cases. 


12 ον ΧΟ 5. 


give the contents of the commission itself. It states that Jesus 
said unto them: ‘Thus it is written, that the Messiah should 
suffer, and rise again from the dead the third day; and that 
repentance and remission of sins should be preached in his name 
unto all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. Ye are witnesses of 
these things. And behold, I send forth the promise of my Father 
upon you; but tarry ye in the city, until ye be clothed with 
power from on high.” 

This report gives three essential things: (1) An explanation 
by Jesus to the Eleven of the real meaning of his death and 
resurrection, and of the relation of the prophecies of the Old 
Testament thereto. We have not the contents of this teaching of 
Jesus; but it was the most natural thing in the world that the 
risen Lord should explain just these things to the Eleven; and 
there is every reason for us to believe that he did it. This teach- 
ing of Jesus is doubtless represented in the interpretation of the 
Old Testament by the Apostles; but it is impracticable to distin- 
guish between the teaching of the Apostles and the teaching of 
Jesus in this particular. 

(2) He commissions the Eleven to preach in his name unto all 
nations, beginning from Jerusalem. This is simply a reiteration 
of what we have found in the Logia, except the phrase “ begin- 
ning from Jerusalem,” which was quite a natural thing for Jesus 
to say. But it matters little if we should suppose that clause to 
be an addition of the Evangelist. The words ‘‘ Ye are witnesses 
of these things ”’ are only a paraphrase of the wi/ness of the Logion. 
What they are to preach: “repentance and remission of sins,” 
is what Jesus himself preached, after the example of John the 
Baptist. It is what the Twelve actually did preach, according to 
Acts. It is altogether probable that Jesus taught them just this. 
It is true the Logion commands that they should teach to keep 
all the commands of Jesus. But if Jesus had specified later or on 
the same occasion what those commands were, he would have 
certainly said first of all, vepentance, and he would have attached 
to repentance, as a condition, the remission of sins. All this is 
entirely in accord with the primitive tradition, and is not in 
accordance with Paulinism, which makes little of either of these 
things. 

(3) The promise of the Spirit is given in the Logion. The 
only thing special in this passage is the definite attachment of the 


THE APOSTOLIC COMMITSSION. 13 


fulfilment of that promise to a specific day, and the command to 
postpone entrance upon their ministry until they were endowed 
with the special gift of the power (δύναμις) from on high. 

The statement in Acts i. 2-8 is in entire accord with this. It is 
chiefly from the final author of Acts; but there seem to be 
underlying it statements from the earlier document, as follows: 

‘John indeed baptized with water ; 


But ye shall be baptized with the Spirit.’’ 
—(Ver. 5.) 


This is a logion, an antithetical couplet. It is verified as a 
logion of the Lord by St. Peter in Acts xi. 16. But St. Peter 
omits ‘not many days hence,” which is therefore an explanatory 
addition of the author from his context, charging the Eleven not 
to depart from Jerusalem, but to wait for the fulfilment of the 
promise. So also the original document gives us the inquiry of 
the Eleven: ‘‘ Lord, dost thou at this time restore the kingdom to 
Israel?” (ver. 6). They naturally inquired about the kingdom, 
and they naturally supposed that the resurrection of the Lord had 
something to do with the restoration of the kingdom. They were 
certainly looking forward to the setting up of a kingdom of Israel 
in the land of Palestine. Jesus’ reply is also original to the source 
for the most part: 

“ No one can know times or seasons, 
Which the Father hath set within his own authority. 

Ye shall receive power, when the Spirit is come upon you, 

And ye shall be my witnesses in Jerusalem and unto the uttermost part of 
the earth.’’ 


The Hebrew Logion was essentially as follows: 


opi anys myth Sond wos 
ἡ 5 asn oS poy ws 

msn oo‘Sy xiao ata apn 
PANT AYP“) Dow. sy ὉΠ ΠῚ 


This is a logion of four pentameters, and it is doubtless an 
original logion of Jesus. Luke has modified it only slightly by 
the insertion of ‘‘in all Judaea and Samaria,” in order to make 
it correspond with his subsequent history ; and, as usual, “ Holy” 
is appended to “ Spirit” in Luke. We follow in the first line 


wv 
c= \N\ 
PA 
᾿ : 


Tat o\ τ ἑΝ bn BR 


hin ; 
i & we / 
( yn! “ 

\ O » 


x rel | Oe 
‘ CA 
᾿ ; ba 
a fala 


14 Ca ee ἡ τ ιδὶ 


the Western text, which seems intrinsically more probable than 
the usual text—“It is not for you to know”—and it is more 
in accord with Jesus’ words in his apocalypse, “But of that 
day or that hour knoweth no one, not even the angels in 
heaven, neither the Son, but the Father” (Mk. xiii. 22). It 
is much more probable that Jesus here, as there, included 
himself among the ‘No one can know,” than that he should 
assume to know and decline to tell it to the Eleven who asked 
him. A later scribe would not change the “It is not for you to 
know” into ‘‘iVo one can know.” A scribe would be more 
likely to reverse the process. 

The promise of the Spirit here is what we have had elsewhere 
with sufficient frequency. The commission to be witnesses is also 
now familiar. ‘The uttermost parts of the earth” is in accord- 
ance with the other logion as truly as is ‘‘ Jerusalem.” 

In addition to the story from the original document, the author 
of Acts gives the general statement: 

“After that he had given commandment through the Holy 
Spirit unto the apostles, whom he had chosen; to whom he also 
showed himself alive after his passion by many proofs, appearing 
unto them by the space of forty days, and speaking the things 
concerning the kingdom of God; and being assembled together 
with them, he charged them not to depart from Jerusalem, but to 
wait for the promise of the Father” (vers. 2-4). 

The Appendix, Mk. xvi. 15-18, gives a commission in connec- 
tion with an appearance to the Eleven in Jerusalem, which is 
evidently a compilation from several sources. 

a) ‘‘Go ye into all the world 

6) and preach the gospel to the whole creation. 

c) He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; 

4 but he that disbelieveth shall be condemned.” 

This part may be regarded as parallel with the commission 
given by Matthew; but lines 2, 3 and 4 of Matthew are here 
condensed, and the language changed in a, ὁ; and ¢, d really 
substitute Pauline faith for the obedience of Matthew, which latter 
is the conception of Christ and the Twelve. The second part is 
more manifestly compiled from the point of view of the experi- 
ence of the Apostolic Age: 


1 Briggs, Messiah of the Gospels, p. 161. 


THE APOSTOLIC COMMISSION. 15 


“ And these signs shall follow them that believe: in my name 
shall they cast out demons; they shall speak with (new) tongues; 
they shall take up serpents, and if they drink any deadly thing, 
it shall in no wise hurt them; they shall lay their hands on the 
sick, and they shall recover.” 

The use of s7g7s, σημεῖα, agrees with the final author of John and 
Luke against the other Synoptists. The earlier term was δυνάμεις. 
The use of /ongues reflects the tongues of the epistle to the Corin- 
thians (I. Cor. xii. 28, xiv. 13 seq.), if not the gifts of the story of 
Acts (Acts ii. 4 seq.). The references to demons and the /aying 
hands on the sick may have been taken from the earlier commis- 
sion, as they resemble those of the Synoptic tradition. The 
reference to serpents seems to reflect the story of Paul, Acts xxviil. 
1-6, and the reference to the fozsonous drink has nothing to 
correspond with it. On the whole this composite commission 
reflects a late conception, and is little help to construct the 
original commission of Jesus. It combines the historic results of 
the commission with the commission itself. 

When, now, we turn to John’s Gospel, we find in Jo. xx. 21-23 
a report of a commission given to ten of the Twelve in Jerusalem 
in the absence of Thomas: 

‘As the Father hath sent me, even so send I you. And when 
he had said this, he breathed on them, and said unto them: 
Receive ye the Holy Spirit. Whosesoever sins ye forgive, they 
are forgiven unto them; whosesoever sins ye retain, they are 
retained.” 

A critical examination of this passage shows that verse 23 is a 
variation of Matthew xviii. 18, and that it does not belong here. 
It is in the midst of an ancient canon of Church discipline, Mtth. 
XViii. 15-207: 

“‘ What things soever ye shall bind on earth, shall be bound in heaven: 
And what things soever ye shall loose on earth, shall be loosed in heaven.”’ 


But it is also contained in the naming of St. Peter, Mtth. xvi. 
17-19: 
“1 will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of God; 


And whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: 
And whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.’ 


? 


1See Briggs, Messiah of the Gospels, p. 193. 


16 Cia BRIGGS: 


The connection here is much more appropriate, and is doubt- 
less original. If these words be eliminated from the narrative of 
John, we have simply the sending of the disciples, and the 
symbolic action with the words: “Receive ye the Holy Spirit.” 
The adjective ‘“oly”’ we may regard as redactional, in other 
respects the phrase is doubtless original. The symbolic action of 
Jesus, “ breathing” on these ten, is entirely Hebraistic in concep- 
tion, and probably comes from the original John. The words of 
Jesus, “1 send you asthe Father hath sent me” and “ Receive ye 
the Spirit,” are entirely in accord with the other narratives. The 
only difficulty lies with the interpretation of the act. If Jesus 
actually imparted the Divine Spirit to ten of the Twelve at this 
time, there is an inconsistency with the narrative of the Book of 
Acts, that the Spirit was first given at Pentecost. We noticealso 
the absence of Thomas, and also of the substitute for Judas. 
Did the writer think that Jesus communicated the Divine Spirit 
officially only to tenof the Twelve? This conception of an impar- 
tation of the Divine Spirit by Jesus during his presence with the 
disciples’ is inconsistent with the conception of the previous dis- 
courses, that it was necessary for Jesus to go away to the Father 
before he could send the Divine Spirit as another Paraclete (xvi. 7). 
Jesus’ final departure to the Father, at his Ascension, was necessary 
prior to the advent of the Spirit. We must take the passage as 
a symbolical prophecy on the part of Jesus, and regard the words 
“Receive the Spirit” as prophetic. This interpretation harmo- 
nizes the Gospel of John with itself and also with the narra- 
tives of the other Gospels and of Acts, and is in accordance 
with prophetic analogies. It seems probable that a considerable 
amount of the material in the discourses of the Gospel of John, 
especially vi. 514-58 and portions of chapters xv.—xvii., are post- 
resurrection discourses, delivered in that same upper room where 
the last Passover was celebrated, and where the disciples were 
accustomed to meet after the resurrection of Jesus, which was 
probably the same as the house of Mary, the mother of John 
Mark (Acts xii. 12). It was not unnatural, therefore, that the 
post-resurrection discourses and the pre-resurrection discourses 
given in the same place to the same disciples should appear 
together in consecutive discourses in the Gospel of John, chrono- 


' McGiffert, Christianity in the Apostolic Age, pp. 49 seq. 


THE APOSTOLIC COMMISSION. 17 


logical order having been abandoned for a topical one, just as in 
the Sermon on the Mount (Mtth. chap. v.-vii.). At ail events, the 
discourses, chap. xv.—xvii., delivered after the words: “Arise, let 
us go hence” (xiv. 31), centre about a promise of the Divine 
Spirit and an exhortation, warning and commission of the Eleven 
after the departure of Jesus to the Father : 

“ Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit ; and so 
shall ye be my disciples” (xv. 8). 

“Tf ye keep my commandments, ye shall abide in my love”. 
(xv. Io). 

“Ye did not choose me, but I chose you, and appointed you, 
that ye should go and bear fruit, and that your fruit should 
abide” (xv. 16). 

“A servant is not greater than his lord. If they persecuted 
me, they will also persecute you; if they kept my word, they will 
keep yours also” (xv. 20). 

“But when the Paraclete is come, whom I will send unto you 
from the Father (evez the Spirit of Truth, which proceedeth 
from the Father), he shall bear witness of me: and bear ye also 
witness, because ye have been with me from the beginning” (xv. 
26-27). 

““They shall put you out of the synagogues: yea, the hour 
cometh, that whosoever killeth you shall think that he offereth 
service unto God”’ (xvi. 2). 

“Tt is expedient for you that I go away: for if I go not away, 
the Paraclete will not come unto you; but if I go, I will send him 
unto you” (xvi. 7). 

“When he, the Spirit of Truth, is come, he will guide you into 
all the truth”’ (xvi. 13). 

“While I was with them, I kept them in thy name which thou 
hast given me; and I guarded them, and not one of them per- 
ished, but the son of perdition” (xvii. 12). 

“ As thou didst send me into the world, even so sent I them into 
the world ” (xvii. 18). 

“Neither for these only do I pray, but for them also that 
believe on me through their word ” (xvii. 20). 

It is plain that the advent of the Spirit to guide, the command- 
ment of love, the sending forth to bear witness of Christ, the 
persecutions that they will undergo—all this is entirely in accord 
with the commission as given in the Logia. That which is 


2 


18 C. A. BRIGGS. 


especially emphasized here is the Personal Spirit, the Mew Com- 
mand of Love (xv. 12,17), and the zmdwelling of the Spirit in the 
witnesses (xiv. 7). 

The commissions are attached to the Twelve in all cases where 
we have any information as to those who were present. But 
they are all of such a character as apply to the ministry as a 
whole and throughout all time. Is it involved in this commission 
that all other ministers derive their commission mediately 
through the Twelve, while the Twelve derived their ministry 
immediately from the Lord himself? In a sense this must be 
true, because only the Twelve received authority from the Lord 
before he left the earth to go to the Father. If all the authority 
for the ministry were derived from the original commission, this 
would be the inevitable result. But the commission did not 
complete the authority for the ministry. According to all the 
reports, the coming upon them of the Divine Spirit was to endow 
them with the authority and the power to undertake their 
ministry. The commission of the Twelve was, as it were, the 
instruction and the call of the primary ministers by the Lord 
before he ascended to his throne. It was necessary that he 
should actually ascend his throne and enter upon his reign, ere 
he could impart to even the chosen Twelve the royal authority to 
organize and to advance the kingdom on earth. 


Union THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY, NEw York. C. A. BRIGGS. 


HOMERIC ECHOES IN MATTHEW ARNOLD’S 
‘BALDER DEAD.’ 


The poem ‘Balder Dead,’ published in 1855, may be regarded 
as illustrating the ‘classical’ theory of Arnold’s famous Preface of 
1853. The subject—Romantic or Gothic as could well be chosen 
—is taken from the Younger Edda’; the treatment is consciously 
and purposely Homeric. In particular, the account of the funeral 
of Balder is to be compared with the account of the funeral of 
Patroklos, and the description of Hermod’s visit to Hela’s realm 
with the description of Odysseus’ visit to the abode of Hades. In 
these passages there is a more or less consecutive imitation of 
particular books of the Iliad and Odyssey, but throughout the 
narrative one may notice many lines and phrases which seem to 
have been borrowed here and there in Homer, as the growth of 
the poem recalled them at random to the author’s mind. 

The poem begins with the wailing of the gods and heroes over 
the dead Balder’s body: 


“ And now would night have fall’n, and found them yet 
Wailing ; but otherwise was Odin’s will.” 


Compare the wailing of the Greeks over the body of Patroklos, 
Il. XXIII 1547: “And so would the light of the sun have gone 
down on their lamentation, had not Achilles said,” etc.; or the 
wailing of the Trojan women over the body of Hector, Il. XXIV 
713. Odin checks their wailing, and reminds them that Balder 
has but met the doom which the Nornies spun for him at his 
birth, just as Thetis checks the wailing of Achilles, 11. XIX 9: 
“for by the will of gods from the beginning was he brought low.” 
And even as Achilles directs, Il]. XXIII 49, that in the morning 


1“ Mallet, and his version of the Edda, is all the poem is based upon,”’ 
Letters of Matthew Arnold, vol. I, p. 55 (Dec. 1855). 

* The Homeric passages in this paper are quoted from the standard prose 
versions by Messrs. Butcher, Lang, Leaf and Myers. 


20 WILFRED Δ MUSTARD. 


the folk shall bring wood, and furnish forth a funeral-pile, so Odin 
gives command: 
‘to-morrow, when the morning dawns, 


Bring wood to the seashore to Balder’s ship, 
And on the deck build high a funeral-pile.”’ 


The funeral-feast of Il. XXIII 55, a feast which lasts until night- 
fall, has its counterpart in the funeral-feast of the gods and heroes 


“ While twilight fell, and sacred night came on.”’ 


In this line Arnold borrows the Homeric epithet κνέφας ἱερόν, 1]. 
XI 194; XVII 455, and in another line of the same passage: 


“And the Valkyries crown’d their horns with mead,”’ 


he adapts the Homeric expression “and the young men crowned 
the bowls with wine” (κρητῆρας ἐπεστέψαντο ποτοῖο), Il. I 470, ete. 
When the grief-stricken Hoder leaves the feasting gods, and 
wanders out through the city gates: 


“Down to the margin of the roaring sea 
He came, and sadly went along the sand,”’ 


we are reminded of the sorrowing Achilles, I]. XXIII 59, who, at 
the end of the funeral-feast, went apart from the rest, and “upon 
the beach of the sounding sea lay groaning heavily... in an open 
place, where waves were breaking on the shore.” Compare, also, 
the famous line, II. I 34, which tells how Chryses the aged priest 
‘went in silence along the beach of the loud-sounding sea”’: 


βὴ δ᾽ ἀκέων παρὰ θῖνα πολυφλοίσβοιο θαλάσσης. 


In the wailing of Nanna and “the Goddesses who wrought her 
will,” as they stand by Balder’s bier: 
** And at his head and feet she station’d Scalds 
Who in their lives were famous for their song; 


These o’er the corpse intoned a plaintive strain, 
A dirge—and Nanna and her train replied,”’ 


we seem to hear the wailing of Andromache and the Trojan women 
over the body of Hector, Il. XXIV 720: “And they... laid him 
on a fretted bed, and set beside him minstrels leaders of the dirge, 
who wailed a mournful lay, while the women made moan with 
them.” And when their wailing is done: 

“and Nanna went 


Into an upper chamber, and lay down; 
And Frea seal’d her tired lids with sleep,” 


MATTHEW ARNOLD'S ‘BALDER DEAD.’ 21 


we think of the recurrent grief of Penelope, Od. I 362, etc.: ‘‘She 
ascended to her upper chamber with the women her handmaids, 
and then was bewailing Odysseus, her dear lord, till grey-eyed 
Athene cast sweet sleep upon her eyelids.” 
The vision which comes to Nanna: 
“Then Balder’s spirit through the gloom drew near, 

In garb, in form, in feature as he was, 

ANIVG Sec  ν δον » ««- he stood 

Over against the curtain of the bed, 

And gazed on Nanna as she slept, and spake :— 

‘Poor lamb, thou sleepest, and forgett’st thy woe!’” 


is very like the vision which came to Achilles, as he slept, II. 
XXIII 65; “then came there unto him the spirit of hapless 
Patroklos, in all things like his living self, in stature, and fair eyes, 
and voice, and the raiment of his body was the same; and he 
stood above Achilles’ head and spake to him: ‘Thou sleepest, 
and hast forgotten me, Ὁ Achilles.’’’? And just as Achilles tries 
to embrace the shade of Patroklos, I]. XXIII 99, “but clasped 
him not; for like a vapour (ἠύτε καπνός) the spirit was gone 
beneath the earth,” so Nanna tries to embrace the shade of 
Balder; but he fades away into the night, like a smoke which is 
seen to ‘‘hang in the air afield and disappear.” Compare, also, 
Virgil, Geor. 1V 499: 
‘ dixit, et ex oculis subito, ceu fumus in auras 
commixtus tenues, fugit diversa.” 


Odin’s command: 


‘Go quickly, Gods, bring wood to the seashore, 
Veith all, which it beseems the dead to have, 
And make a funeral-pile on Balder’s ship,”’ 


is an echo of the words of Achilles, Il. XXIII 49: “rouse the 
folk to bring wood and furnish all that it beseemeth a dead man 
to have when he goeth beneath the misty gloom.” And the 
description of the gods bringing down wood for the funeral-pile is 
distinctly Homeric. They “took axes and ropes,” and, with 
Thor at their head, 


“ Forth wended they, and drave their steeds before. 
And up the dewy mountain-tracks they fared 
To the dark forests, in the early dawn; 
And up and down, and side and slant they roam’d.”’ 


22 WILFRED P. MUSTARD. 


There they lopped and clove the pine trees, 


‘‘ And bound the logs behind their steeds to draw, 
And drave them homeward; and the snorting steeds 
Went straining through the crackling brushwood down, 
And by the darkling forest-paths the Gods 
Follow’d, and on their shoulders carried boughs. 
And they came out upon the plain, and pass’d 
Asgard, and led their horses to the beach, 
And loosed them of their loads on the seashore, 
And ranged the wood in stacks by Balder’s ship.”’ 


In the closing lines of this passage Asgard seems to be visualized 
as a sort of Ilios—with a Mount Ida on one side of it, and on the 
other the sea. But the whole passage is closely modelled on the 
description of the Greeks bringing down wood for the pyre of 
Patroklos, Il. XXIII 110 ff. In the Homeric passage, men are 
sent from all the huts to fetch wood, with Meriones to watch over 
them. ‘And they went forth with wood-cutting axes in their 
hands and well-woven ropes, and before them went the mules, 
and uphill and downhill and sideways and across they went. But 
when they came to the spurs of many-fountained Ida, straightway 
they set them lustily to hew high-foliaged oaks with the long- 
edged bronze, and with loud noise fell the trees. Then splitting 
them asunder the Achaeans bound them behind the mules, and 
they tore up the earth with their feet as they made for the plain 
through the thick underwood. And all the woodcutters bare 
logs; ... Andon the shore they threw them down in line, where 
Achilles purposed a mighty tomb for Patroklos and for himself.” 
Another of Odin’s commands: 


“ But now, put on your arms, and mount your steeds, 
And in procession all come near, and weep 
Balder ; for that is what the dead desire. 
When ye enough have wept, then build a pile 
Of the heap’d wood, and burn his corpse with fire 
Out of our sight; that we may turn from grief, 
And lead, as erst, our daily life in Heaven,” 


combines two commands of Achilles: I]. XXIII 8, “with horses 
and chariots let us go near and mourn Patroklos, for such is the 
honour of the dead”; and 1], XXIII 52, “rouse the folk to bring 
wood ... to the end that untiring fire may burn him quickly 


MATTHEW ARNOLD'S ‘BALDER DEAD.’ 23 


from sight, and the host betake them to their work.” And the 
military honors paid to Balder: 


‘‘ And thrice in arms around the dead they rode, 
Weeping ; the sands were wetted, and their arms, 
With their thick-falling tears—so good a friend 
They mourn’d that day, so bright, so loved a God,”’ 


are borrowed bodily from 1]. XXIII 13': ‘So thrice around the 
dead they drave their well-maned steeds, moaning... Bedewed 
were the sands with tears, bedewed the warriors’ arms; so great 
a lord of fear they sorrowed for.” Virgil has imitated the same 
passage, Aen. XI 188-91; compare, in particular, the line: 


“spargitur et telius lacrimis, sparguntur et arma.”’ 


The wailing of Odin: 


“ And Odin came, and laid his kingly hands 
On Balder’s breast, and thus began the wail,”’’ 


is like the wailing of Achilles, I]. XXIII 17, or XVIII 317: “And 
Peleus’ son led their loud wail, laying his man-slaying hands on 
his comrade’s breast.” When Freya, “the loveliest Goddess she 
in Heaven,” takes Balder’s head in her hands, and recalls his 
kindness: 


“ Thou only, Balder, wast for ever kind, 
To take my hand, and wipe my tears, and say: 
‘ Weep not, O Freya, weep no golden tears! 
One day the wandering Oder will return,’ 
Petsiabisbie eee and Balder now is gone, 
And I am left uncomforted in Heaven,’’ 


one thinks of the lament of Briseis, ‘that was like unto golden 
Aphrodite,” over the body of Patroklos, Il. XIX 295: “But thou, 
when swift Achilles slew my husband .. . wouldst ever that I 
should not even weep... Therefore with all my soul I mourn 
thy death,’ for thou wert ever kind.” Compare, also, the wailing 


1Similar military honors are recorded as paid by various ancient peoples 
to their heroes: by the Greeks to Achilles, Od. XXIV 68; by Germanicus 
and his legions to Drusus, Tacitus, Ann. II 7, 4; by the Carthaginians to 
Gracchus, Livy, XXV 17, 5; by the Huns to Attila, Jordanes, Get. XLIX ; 
by the Jutes to Beowulf, Beow. 3170. 

2 τῷ σ᾽ ἄμοτον κλαίω τεθνηότα, μείλιχον αἰεί. Compare the lament of the hero 
Regner: ‘‘ Therefore with grateful heart I mourn thee dead.” 


24 WILFRED P. MUSTARD. 


of Andromache, Il. XXIV 724, “while in her hands she held 
the head of Hector, slayer of men”; and the lament of Helen, II. 
XXIV 774: “for no more is any left in wide Troy-land to be my 
friend and kind to me, but all men shudder at me.” And the 
line at the end of Freya’s lament : 


“Ὁ She spake, and all the Goddesses bewail’d,”’ 


may be compared with such lines as Il. XXIV 746: ‘Thus spake 
she wailing, and the women joined their moan.” 
After the burning of Balder’s funeral-pyre, the gods went and 


“sate down in Odin’s hall 
At table, and the funeral-feast began.” 


So in the closing lines of the Iliad, after Hector’s funeral-pile is 
burned: ‘when they had heaped the barrow they went back, and 
gathered them together and feasted them right well in noble feast 
at the palace of Priam, Zeus-fostered king.” 

When Frea explains that the messenger who is to go to Hela’s 
realm must ride on until he hears “the roaring of the streams of 
Hell,” and sees the “feeble shadowy tribes” and 


‘‘the wailful ghosts 
Who all will flit, like eddying leaves, around,” 


we are reminded of Circe’s instructions to Odysseus when he is 
about to go to the abode of Hades, Od. X 504 ff. The Greek 
hero is to journey on until he comes to “a meeting of the two 
roaring waters,’ and when he has entreated “the strengthless 
heads of the dead,” then will many spirits come to him ‘of the dead 
that be departed.” The ‘flitting’ ghosts of the English poem 
recall Homer’s ἀίσσουσιν, Od. X 495, and Virgil’s ‘volitare,’ Aen. 
VI 293, 329. Moreover, Arnold’s messenger, as he journeys 
through the darkness, 
“must ever watch the northern Bear, 

Who from her frozen height with jealous eye 

Confronts the Dog and Hunter in the south, 

And is alone not dipt in Ocean’s stream,’’ 


much as Odysseus, Od. V 270, steers his course by “(πε Bear, 
which they likewise call the Wain, which turneth ever in one 
place, and keepeth watch upon Orion, and alone hath no part in 
the baths of Ocean.” And the promise made to Hermod when 
he is bidden to set forth to Hela’s realm: 


“ And they shall be thy guides, who have the power,”’ 


MATTHEW ARNOLD S ‘BALDER DEAD.’ 25 


recalls the comforting words of Od. IV 827: ‘For lo, such a 
friend goes to guide him, as all men pray to stand by them, for 
that she hath the power (δύναται γάρ), even Pallas Athene.”’ 

In Arnold’s version of the manner of Nanna’s death—by a 
“painless stroke” from Frea—we have the Homeric fancy which 
ascribes the sudden death of women to the ‘‘gentle shafts” of 
Artemis; compare Od. XI 173. And Hela’s amazement when 
the living Hermod appears before her: 

““Unhappy, how hast thou endured to leave 


The light, and journey to the cheerless land... 
Being alive?”’ 


repeats the amazement of the spirit of Anticleia, Od. XI 156: 
“how didst thou come beneath the darkness and the shadow, 
thou that art a living man?”? 

When Hermod first addresses Balder in Hela’s realm: 


‘‘ Even in the abode of death, O Balder, hail!”’ 


we hear once more the cry of Achilles, Il. XXIII 20, 180: “All 
hail, Patroklos, even in the house of Hades.” And a part of 
the dialogue between them is a very clear echo of the dia- 
logue between Odysseus and the shade of Achilles. Hermod is 
speaking: 


“* And sure of all the happiest far art thou 
Who ever have been known in earth or Heaven; 
Alive, thou wast of Gods the most beloved, 
And now thou sittest crown’d by Hela’s side, 
Here, and hast honour among all the dead.’ 
He spake; and Balder utter’d himreply.. . 
‘Hermod the nimble, gild me not my death! 
Better to live a serf, a captured man, 
Who scatters rushes in a master’s hall, 
Than be a crown’d king here, and rule the dead.’” 


Compare Od. XI 483 ff., where Odysseus is speaking: “ ‘while 
as for thee, Achilles, none other than thou wast heretofore the 
most blessed of men, nor shall any be hereafter. For of old, in 
the days of thy life, we Argives gave thee one honour with the 


1Messrs. Butcher and Lang (The Odyssey of Homer, p. 416) quote the 
passage of the Kalevala, in which the Daughters of Death find a similar 
difficulty when the living Wainamoinen tries to enter Tuonela, the Finnish 
Hades. 


26 WILFRED P. MUSTARD. 


gods, and now thou art a great prince here among the dead. 
Wherefore let not thy death be any grief to thee, Achilles.’ 

“Even so I spake, and he straightway answered me, and said: 
‘Nay, speak not comfortably to me of death, O great Odysseus. 
Rather would I live on ground as the hireling of another, with a 
landless man who had no great livelihood, than bear sway among 
all the dead that be departed.’” 

When Odin proposes to go to Hela’s realm and bring back 
Balder by force: 


“‘ He spake, and his fierce sons applauded loud,” 
we think of Il. VIII 542: 
“Qs Ἕκτωρ aydpev’, ἐπὶ δὲ Τρῶες κελάδησαν, 
“So Hector spake: the Trojans roar’d applause,” as it runs in 
Tennyson’s specimen translation. The same line recurs in Il. 
XVIII 310. And the words in which Balder is made to foretell 
the downfall of heaven: 


“ The day will come, when fall shall Asgard’s towers, 
And Odin, and his sons, the seed of Heaven,”’ 


are modelled on the words of Hector, Il. VI 450, or of Aga- 
memnon, Il. IV 164: “the day shall come for holy Ilios to be laid 
low, and Priam and the folk of Priam of the good ashen spear.” 
The ship-burial of the Old Norse story is retained in the English 
poem, but many of the details are either omitted or modified. 
For example, in the original account’ the gods are unable to 
launch Balder’s ship, and so send to Jotunheim for the giantess 
Hyrrokin. She comes riding upon a wolf, with twisted serpents 
for reins; and while four Berserkers contrive to hold her plunging 
steed, she goes to the prow, and launches the ship “with one 
single push; but the motion was so violent that fire sprang from 
the underlaid rollers and all the earth shook.” In Arnold’s poem 
this grim giantess is not mentioned at all, and the might of Thor 


is made equal to the task: 
“and Thor 
Set his stout shoulder hard against the stern 
To push the ship through the thick sand ;—sparks flew 
From the deep trench she plough’d.” 


1R, B. Anderson, The Younger Edda, p. 133; Karl Simrock, Die Edda, 
p. 287. 


MATTHEW ARNOLD'S ‘BALDER DEAD. 27 


The ship, it will be noticed, becomes a classical ship—beached as 
ships in Homer are beached, with the prow pointing toward the 
sea.. Again, in the Norse story Nanna dies of grief before 
Balder’s funeral-ship; in Arnold’s version she dies in Homeric 
fashion, in her bed: 


“ Frea, the mother of the Gods, with stroke 
Painless and swift, set free her airy soul.”’ 


The grotesque incident of the dwarf whom the angry Thor kicked 
into the blazing pyre is omitted altogether. Moreover, in the 
Edda “115 funeral-pile was attended by many kinds of folk” — 
Odin and his ravens, Frea, and the Valkyries; Frey drawn in his 
chariot by the boar Gullinburste, Heimdal riding his steed Gull- 
top, and Freya driving her cats; there came also a great company 
of frost-giants and mountain-giants. In Arnold’s version most of 
these details are omitted—whether as unclassical or as unessen- 
tial—and the gods who remain become somehow nobler person- 
ages. For the treatment is Homeric, and Homer is ‘always 
noble.’ 

In one of his letters? Arnold has something to say of Tennyson: 
“ The fault I find with Tennyson in his Idylis of the King is that 
the peculiar charm and aroma of the Middle Age he does not 
give in them.” In the Preface of 1853 he had argued for the 
Greek theory of poetic art: “All depends upon the subject ; 
choose a fitting action, penetrate yourself with the feeling of its 
situations; this done, everything else will follow.” Just how far 
the atmosphere or tone of the Norse mythology is reproduced in 
‘Balder Dead,’ how thoroughly the author had penetrated him- 
self with the feeling of its situations, I must leave it to others to 
say. It is somewhat bewildering to hear Odin and Hermod and 
Balder speaking in the very words of Achilles or Odysseus, and 
then to see such very Homeric gods eating of the boar Serimner’s 
flesh, and drinking from “horns and gold-rimm’d skulls.” One 
is reminded of the Irish critic’s protest against Conington’s 
verse translation of the Aeneid—‘setting Virgil a-chorusing 
with Sir Walter Scott and Clan-Alpine’s boatmen.”* When 


1Compare II]. XIII 333; XV 704; XVI 124. 
2Vol. I, p. 147 (Dec. 1860). 
8]. Henry, Aeneidea, vol. I, p. 53. 


28 WILFRED P. MUSTARD. 


Arnold wrote his ‘Sohrab and Rustum,’ he took especial pains 
to ‘orientalize’ the similes, because he thought they ‘looked 
strange, and jarred, if Western.”’ His sensitive ear could detect 
“one continual falsetto” in the ‘“pinchbeck Roman Ballads of 
Lord Macaulay”?; but he seems to have found no incongruity of 
details in his own deft mosaic of Norse and Homeric story. 
WILFRED P. MUSTARD. 


HAVERFORD COLLEGE, February 1, 1901. 


1 Letters, vol. I, Ὁ. 37. 
2 On Translating Homer, pp. 187, 295. 


AD CATULL. XXX 4-5. 


Nec facta impia fallacum hominum caelicolis placent. 
Que tu neglegis et me miserum deseris in malis. 


Cum ita scriptum sit in O et Gcodicibus, necesse fuit ut pro eo, 
quod ferri non posset, gue aliquod vocabulum e coniectura infer- 
retur. Primum igitur codices recentiores et editiones veteres guos 
exhibent, quam coniecturam Avantio Sillig, Guarino Baehrens 
tribuit ; receperunt eam ex editoribus recentioribus Riese et Post- 
gate, probavit Richter in Catullianis (progr. Lips. 1881), p. 5. 
Facilior et fortasse etiam prior emendatio guae cui debeatur, 
nescio; sed iam pridem vulgata erat lectio, cum eam complures 
huius saeculi editores receperunt, ut Lachmann, Rossbach, Vahlen 
(in editione Hauptiana quarta, et, nisi fallor, iam ipse Haupt), Ellis, 
Merrill, Palmer. Maluit L. Mueller guod scribere, cum d finalem 
“sine dubio sequentis verbi litera initiali’”’ haustam esse affirmaret ; 
quem secutus Owen corruptelam tamen e compendio scripturae 
ortam esse putat, quoniam e gd nota facile g- effici potuerit. Priora 
aspernatus Baehrens guem coniecit, quae et ipsa facilis erat emen- 
datio; sed cum ad amiculi vocabulum pronomen relativum 
spectare deberet, etiam ordo versuum necessario commutabatur, 
ut v. 5 post v. 3 poneretur. Sed ipse Baehrens in commentario 
post decennium emisso suam sententiam reliquit, Munronis pro- 
bavit, qui (Crit. and Elucid., p. 114) commate post A/acent inter- 
pungi et guomscribiiussit. Denique gwezs, 1. 6. guibus, dubitanter 
coniecit H. Richards, Cl. Rev. XI, p. 304, coll. L. Muell. ad 
Catull. LXIV 31. 

Certe, si guae scribas, a lectione codicum vix disceditur ; sed de 
sensu dubitatum est. Nam qui primus id scripsit, voluit fortasse 
(nihil enim de ea re comperi) sic intellegi, quasi ad eam quae 
antecedit enuntiationem pronomen relativum spectaret; quae 
tamen enuntiatio cum unam tantum notionem complectatur, dubi- 
taverunt viri docti, num recte sic pluralis adhiberetur, quem ad 
plures sive res sive notiones referri debere opinatur Ellis in adno- 
tatione ad v. 3; cf. etiam H. Bluemner, Nov. Ann., 1885, pp. 879 


30 GUILELMUS HAMILTON KIRK. 


sqq. Illum igitur sensum cum L. Mueller exhibere vellet, singu- 
larem pro plurali posuit; gwae autem lectionem cum et Ellis et 
Merrill retinere mallent, lacunam ille statuit, hic ita interpretatus 
est, ut guae ad impia facta spectare, neglegis idem quod neg/le- 
genter committis valere censuerit. Sed neque in neglegendi verbo 
sic simpliciter posito committendi notio inest sed omittendi, neque 
ex eo quo Merrill nisus est loco, Hor. C. I 28, 30-31, negle- 
genter ac temere facere idem esse efficitur. Jam vero H. Magnus, 
Ann. Burs., 1885, p. 258, brevissime sane quaesivit, an omnino 
justa esset illa de qua dixi dubitatio, neque quid ipse de ea re 
sentiret, plenius exposuit. Venerat ei fortasse in mentem, apud 
Graecos interdum pronomen plurali numero poni, ubi singularem 
potius exspectes ; qua de re nuper monuit Milden in dissertatione 
Hopkinsiensi quae inscribitur “Limitations of the Predicative 
Position in Greek,” p. 33. Ille unum affert locum, de quo 
disputat, Isocr. 1 34, alia exempla in Ponickavii de Isocratis 
Demonicea libello congesta esse testatur; qui liber cum mihi 
praesto non sit, apponam quae ipse collegi: Isae. III 48 γενομένων 
αὐτῶν, quod ad verba ὡς ἐξ ἑταίρας οὖσαν αὐτὴν ἐγγυᾶσθαι spectat ; 
Isocr. XVII 24 τούτοις ἰσχυριεῖσθαι, 1. Ε. τῷ τὸ γραμματεῖον διε- 
φθάρθαι; Dem. XXIII 126 τυγχάνειν τούτων, 1. €. τοῦ πολίτας γενέσθαι ; 
LIX 86 ὑπὲρ αὐτῶν; Plat. Gorg. 448 A αὐτὰ ταῦτα ; Ar. Ran. 
598, 695-6. Etiam Dem. XXXVI 30si, ut Sandys, Reiskii inter- 
pretationem sequaris, verba αὐτῶν τούτων idem significant atque 
id quod paulo ante praecedit τοῦτο; aliter in commentario suo, 
Act. Sem. Erlang. IV 131, Huettner interpretatur, sed minus 
probabiliter, qui neque αὐτῶν pronominis vim neque ἀξιωθεῖσι 
participii sensum satis videatur servavisse. 

Catullum igitur ex imitatione Graecorum sic locutum esse 
credo, quamquam pluralem id genus etiam Romani fortasse in 
legibus edictis sim. usurpaverunt; cf. Rhet. ad Her. I 21 senatus 
decrevit, sieam legem ad populum ferat, adversus rem publicam 
videri ea facere; Fest., p. 233 M.e formula praetoria, uti nunc 
possidetis eum fundum ... ita possideatis, adversus ea vim fieri 
veto. Et verba adversus ea, ad notiones modo unam modo plures 
spectantia, saepius recurrunt, sed ea paene pro adverbio fuisse ex 
Sc. de Bac. 24 apparet: quei advorsum ead fecissent quam suprad 
scriptum est: quo magis veri simile est, e Graeco Catullum potius 
quam e iuris sermone hausisse, praesertim cum Catulliano loco 
ille simillimus sit, quem e Rhet. ad Her. attuli, ubi verba ipsa 


IAD CATULL, XX 4-5. 31 


senatusconsulti fideliter tradita esse vix licet confidenter affirmare. 
Sed quod Cicero, C. M. 49, z//a posuit, animadvertendum est, ea 
quae sequitur enuntiatione duas contineri notiones, quarum altera 
per participium, altera per infinitivos exprimitur; cf. Dem. XLI 
15; Ar. Ran. 610 sq., 693 sqq. 

At etiam in primo versus 4 vocabulo viri docti haesitaverunt, 
cum coniunctionem copulativam male adhiberi iudicarent; qua 
opinione aliqua ex parte moti sunt et Lachmann, ut hos versus in 
finem carminis relegaret, et Ellis, ut lacunam statueret. unc 
Baehrens, zum coniecit Schwabe, quem Postgate secutus est; 
neque hanc coniecturam aut Riese aut L. Mueller improbavit, 
quamquam hic in textu nihil mutavit, 207 ille maluit, quod etiam 
Richtero placuit. Cur tamen coniunctio offenderet, Ellis non 
exposuit, dum nihil aliud nisi ec sensu carere dicit; quod autem 
de inepta affirmatione Baehrens protulit, id eo minus operae est 
refellere, quod rationibus parum aptis ipsius coniectura nititur, 
At Bluemner 1. 1. ita scripsit: “Der anschluss dieses gedankens 
an den vorhergehenden durch das blosse zec ist entschieden auf- 
fallend; man erwartet bei einem so starken gegensatze, wie er 
hier stattfindet, eine deutliche gegeniiberstellung durch eine ad- 
versativpartikel, zum mindesten aber die reine negation, nicht den 
copulativen anschluss mit mec.” Hoc quid sit, haereo; neque 
enim profecto id negare voluit, satis crebro apud Latinos con- 
iunctionem copulativam occurrere, ubi linguae vel Germanicae vel 
Anglicae consuetudo particulam magis requirat adversativam. 
At ne hoc quidem dici potest, respuendam esse illam, si res 
plane dissimiles componantur, cum Ciceronis, Off. III 41, haec 
verba sint: “14 quod utile videbatur neque erat.” Sed mihi ne 
videntur quidem ea, quae hoc versu efferuntur, adeo cum ante- 
cedentibus pugnare, ut in coniunctione vis adversandi agnoscenda 
sit; de illo potius usu cogitandum est, quem tangit Naegelsbach, 
Stil®, p. 720: “Und zwar nicht. So steht neque allerdings 
zumeist in parenthetisch eingeschobenen Satzen, wie Liv. 28, 42, 
6... 5, 53, 3--- Aber doch auch am Anfang selbstandiger 
Perioden: 3, 36, 4.” Eius generis etiam haec sunt: Liv. I 28, 6 
nec ea culpa; Rhet. ad Her. III 15 nec hoc genus causae; ib. 39 
nec nos hanc verborum memoriam; Liv. I 23 fin. nec mirari 
oportet; Vell. I 3, 3 neque est quod miremur; ib. 17, 1 neque hoc 
in Graecis; adde etiam locutiones quae sunt ec mirum, neque 
inturia. In quibus omnibus vox, ut ita dicam, monentis est; et 


32 GUILELMUS HAMILTON KIRK. 


a non tali modo vec differt, ut illud simpliciter et cum gravitate 
neget, huic minus gravitatis sed vis insit vividior, et illud quasi 
vocis intentionem, hoc quasi digiti sublationem reddat. 

Altera sane exstat interpretatio, qua ec aliqui tuentur; nam id 
vocabulum “‘more prisco pro oz positum” esse primus A. Statius, 
ut videtur (cf. Baehr. ad ἢ. 1.), tum Munro et eum secutus Merrill 
censuerunt. Breviter Munro in Adversariis rem tetigit, plura 
idem protulit in adnotatione ad Lucret. II 23, cum eis exemplis 
niteretur, quae in libello de particulis, p. 24, Ribbeck congesserat. 
Sed quae tum de zegue indefinito Ribbeck disseruit, ea hodie vix 
quisquam in universum tuebitur; ita enim loqui videtur, quasi 
etiam apud eos, qui post Augustum scriptores fuerunt, zegue 
haud idem quod ne—guidem valeat, sed pro zon semper accipi- 
endum sit. Neque vero nunc probatur (vid. e. g. Schmalz’, p. 
455), quod in excursu ad Cic. Fin. tertio, p. 821, Madvig affir- 
mavit, zec pro ze—guzdem Livium admittere noluisse; quietiam sic 
admisit, ut per eam particulam neque adderetur aliquid neque res 
augeretur sed tantum expressius affirmaretur, velut I 25, 6 qui nec 
procul aberat; cf. Xen. An. I 3, 12 καὶ yap οὐδὲ πόρρω δοκοῦμέν μοι 
αὐτοῦ καθῆσθα. Nuper autem (Philol. LVIII) Frederking, εἰ 
quoque sententiae adversatus quae ex auctoritate Madvigii usque 
adhuc valuit (cf. tamen etiam Kuehn. II 660-1), recte, ut opinor, 
contendit Ciceronem quoque zec tali sensu adhibuisse; id enim 
et Catullus fecit (LXVI 73 nec si, i. 6. οὐδ᾽ εἰ, οἱ. etiam Post- 
gate ad LXII 59) et Lucretius (VI 1214 neque se possent co- 
gnoscere ut ipsi, 1. 6. μηδ᾽ αὐτοὶ αὑτούς). Haec poetarum sunt, 
concedo; at Cicero, Caesari plane contrarius, ut adversus res 
novas timidus, ita in novis vocabulis locutionibusque audax fuit ; 
qui si e¢ pro efzam posuit, certe nulla causa est, quin eum etiam in 
negatione Graecos imitatum esse credamus. Neque vero in hac 
re primus novavit ; nam zeque pro ze—gquidem etiam priscos admi- 
sisse Gildersleeve-Lodge, $480, ἢ. 1, affirmant, idque Plauto 
Schmalz’, 455 tribuit. 

Aliud tamen est priscum illud 2ec, quod saepe apud Plautum 
aliosque eiusdem aetatis scriptores occurrere temere aliqui dixe- 
runt, cum re vera in paucis tantum locis locutionibusque inveni- 
atur. Hoc adverbium non nisi per zec recte scribi et O. Mueller 
(Suppl. Adnot. ad Fest., p. 387) et Buecheler (Nov. Ann., 1863, 
Ρ. 785) existimaverunt; quare etiam Kayser in Cic. Legg. II 22 
mec pro eo quod est in codicibus megue recepit. At ibidem 


ΧΟ pis. 33 


C. Εἰ W. Mueller codicum lectionem retinet; cf. Ribbeck 1. 1. 
quaeque Planta, II 469 profert: “Das o(skisch) u(mbrische) 
p widerlegt die Meinung dass nec=non deiktisches c enthalte 
(Draeg. II 67 f.). Eher konnte man ein indefinites -que -c -p 
(also eigentlich “ nicht irgend ”) neben dem copulativen annehmen 
(vgl. z. B. Schmalz’, 461; Stokes-Bezzenberger bei Fick, II* 62).” 
In compositis an etiam zeg- factum sit, illis statuendum relinquo, 
quorum de talibus rebus iudicium est; sed nec ofinans et nec 
opinatus pro compositis haberi nolo, cum et sic separatim scripta 
occurrant (cf. Ter. Andr. 180, Haut. 186 Umpf., Lucr. III 959) et 
in B. Alex. 63 et 75, B. Afr. 66 neque of. legamus, ut haec 
vocabula etiam extremis liberae reipublicae temporibus nondum 
in unum confusa esse colligas; sane in alio numero zecopinus est 
adiectivum, quod neque vere compositum et coniunctim semper 
scribendum est. 

Iam πες adverbium in XII Tabularum reliquiis occurrit: V 4 
cui suus heres nec escit, 7 b ast ei custos nec escit, VIII 16 si 
adorat furto quod nec manifestum erit. Etiam V 5 plerumque sic 
scribitur, codices tamen zesczt praebent, quod tuetur Stolz, ed. 2, 
Ρ. 313; ed. 3, p. 126. His igitur locis vere adverbium est, quo- 
niam nisi cum verbo non adhibetur; quamquam enim uno loco, 
VIII 16, adiectivo praepositum est, tamen vi sua verbum quoque 
afficit. At in eis locutionibus, quae multis saeculis postea apud 
iuris scriptores exstantes ec priscum exhibent, alia ratio obtinet ; 
nam si de rebus nec mancipi aut de furto nec manifesto illi dis- 
serunt, nunquam hanc particulam ad verbum trahunt, sed cum 
vocabulo sequenti artissime coniungitur, neque ab zz- differt nisi 
quod separatim scribitur; quod iam in Gai definitione satis appa- 
ret: III 185 nam quod manifestum non est, id nec manifestum 
est. At etiam clarior res fit, si particula nullo modo ad verbum 
referri potest, velut Gai. II 18: magna autem differentia est inter 
mancipi res et nec mancipi. At Plautinae aetatis media quaedam 
ratio est; particula enim, cum ad verbum quoque pertineat, 
tamen cum alia parte orationis, eaque adverbio, artius videtur 
coniungi, ut in his: Naev. B. P. 53 B., 71 M. quod bruti nec satis 
sardare queunt; Cat. agr. 141, 4 si quid tibi ... neque satis 
factum est; Turpil. ap. Fest., p. 162 M. nec recte dici mihi quod 
iam dudum audio. Et mec recte dicere sexies apud Plautum 
occurrere Lorenz ad Most. 240 docet: As. 155, 471, Bac. 119, 


Most. 240, Poen. 516, Ps. 1085; semel etiam ec recte loguz, Bac. 
3 


34 GUILELMUS HAMILTON KIRK. 


735. At plerumque male dicere vel /oguz in consuetudine fuit, et 
satis si negative efferre volebant, arwm dicebant. Neque vero 
negaverim, etiam on recte (ut Cic. Lael. 59) et mon satis in usu 
fuisse, sed in his particula negativa ab adverbio disiungi potest, 
sicut Quintilianus, VII, pr. §1 satis non est scripsit, in illis autem 
non disiungitur. Ergo si Plautina aetate non nisi in illis locutio- 
nibus πές pro mon adhibetur, sic statuere licet, illas e vetustiore 
tempore receptas Plautum aequalesque eius ita admisisse ut nihil 
earum mutare auderent, zec autem indefinitum nisi in illis traditum 
non fuisse et e consuetudine loquendi iampridem abiisse. 

Contra quam sententiam facere mihi quidem non videtur locus 
ille Ennianus, Trag. 78 R. cui nec arae patriae domi stant, fractae 
disiectae iacent; nam hic zec pro ne—guidem esse iam collocatio 
ipsa verborum et totius loci contextus satis evidenter declarant. 
Magis disputandi locus est in Enn. A. 288, 3 B., 453 M. sed nec 
pote quisquam undique nitendo corpus discerpere ferro; poterat 
enim fieri ut 2ec pote pro meguit veteres usurparent. Sed cum 
in Plauti fabulis et Joze satis frequenter adhibeatur neque illud ec 
desit, tamen coniuncta nusquam inveniuntur ; et sed mec si apud 
posteriores legimus (ut Ov. P. I 1, 19; Tac. A. 1V 34; Mart. 1V 
87, 5), tum e Graeco id translatum esse facile concedimus. 
Veri simile autem est, saepius in certis coniunctionibus ver- 
borum tales translationes primum factas esse, velut ef pro 
etiam Cicero aut post quasdam particulas aut cum pronomine 
posuit (vid. Gildersleeve-Lodge, §478, n. 2); et quamquam in eo 
quem Ennius versum exprimebat, 1]. Π 107, οὐδὲ δύναντο est, haud 
mirum tamen si 1116, cum verbum pro verbo non redderet, adver- 
sandi notionem maiore vi efferre et sic vertere maluit, quasi ἀλλ᾽ οὐδέ 
legeretur. Quod sifecit, tum apud eum quoque, sicut apud Liv. I 
25, 6, mec intendendi tantum vim habet, sicut apud Latinos inter- 
dum 2ze—guidem (cf. Rhet. ad Her. II] 15, IV 10; Cic. Catil. III 
24) et apud Graecos οὐδέ vel μηδέ; cf. Plat. Rep. 328 C; Philem. 
g9, 1 K.; Anaxandr. 12,3 Κα. Atque particulam hoc sensu accipi- 
endam existimo in Il. A 119, ¥ 493 ἐπεὶ οὐδὲ ἔοικεν, QUamquam 
Kuehner, Gr. Gr. II 834, Naegelsbachium secutus sic interpre- 
tatur: “ weil sich’s gar nicht einmal ziemt, geschweige denn dass 
es billig ware”; quam interpretationem etiam Leaf, sed non sine 
dubitatione, recipit. At particula si duas notiones inter se oppo- 
nit, aut exprimuntur ambae aut ex altera altera intellegitur; 
extrinsecus autem inferri nihil debet. Idem sensus est inM 212, 


AD CATULL, XXX χε; 35 


ubi particula bis ponitur; cf. etiam T 295 οὐδὲ μὲν οὐδέ μ᾽ ἔασκες, € 
cuius simili loco pendere videtur Cir. 239 quod nec sinit Adrastea. 

At tertius locus obstare videtur: Plaut. Trin. 281 sqq. nolo ego 
cum inprobis te viris, gnate mi, neque in via neque in foro nec- 
ullum sermonem exsequi; sic enim et Brix et Schoell scripserunt, 
cum in A codice neg. ud/um, in ceteris udlum sit. Atque olim 
magis placere poterat mecul/us, quia etiam mecuter receptum 
erat ; quod postquam nuper (Rh. M. LII) validis rationibus Birt 
expulit, de illo altero iam liberius dubitare licet. Et mihi quidem 
Plautus non secus atque is qui Cirim conscripsit (Cir. 270 nec 
ullo volnere) Graecum illud οὐδὲ εἷς in linguam Latinam transtu- 
lisse videtur ; sed tamen si ei zeculd/um vel neque ullum ex dome- 
stica copia in promptu fuisse concedimus, aliud nihil efficitur nisi 
hanc verborum coniunctionem eum ex vetustioribus recepisse ; 
ipsum vero zec Plautum ita recepisse, ut id ad suum arbitrium 
adhibere et cum quolibet verbo coniungere posset, non efficitur. 

Sane Cicero, cum in formis quibusdam legum confingendis inter 
alia vetusta etiam zec pro zon admitteret, ita locutus est quasi 
nequaquam vetustissimum sermonem referre vellet ; cf. Legg. 11 18 
“sunt certa legum verba, Quinte, neque ita prisca, ut in veteribus 
XII sacratisque legibus, et tamen, quo plus auctoritatis habeant, 
paulo antiquiora quam hic sermo est.” Ex qua oratione haec 
colligere licet, et in legibus post decemviralem aetatem con- 
scriptis ec adhibitum fuisse (cuius rei tamen nulla exempla super- 
sunt) et id nisi in legibus exstare Ciceronem quidem non existi- 
mavisse. Quod tum quoque ille recte opinari poterat, si Plautini 
illius mec vecte et nec satis Naeviani et eius, quo ipse utebatur, 
nec opinatus optime meminerat; neque enim in sermone suae 
aetatis 2ec quovis modo adhibitum sed solum in illis norat locu- 
tionibus. 

At quod in Verg. Ecl. [IX 6 πές priscum vulgo agnoverunt, 
animadvertendum est, magis id iure fortasse veteres grammaticos 
fecisse quam qui huius saeculi editores idem senserunt. Nam 
Donatus cum in Ter. Ph. 678 legisset 


quae quidem illi res vortat male 


haec adnotavit: “non desinit poeta ostendere avaritiam Demi- 
phonis, qui nec ideo libenter fert dari aliquid Phormioni, quia sic 
commodum ei est. Virgilius [ἘΠ]. IX 6] hos illi, quod nec bene 
vertat, mittimus hoedos.” Grammaticus de ethesin tantum 


36 GUILELMUS HAMILTON KIRK. 


loquitur, de oratione nihil dicit; at tamen ex eo ordine verborum, 
quem in versu Vergiliano exscribendo servat, suspicari possis, ut 
pro male dicere exstabat mec recte dicere, sic etiam nec bene 
vertere pro male vertere in aliqua consuetudine fuisse. Sed nunc 
editores 2ec vertat bene scribere malunt cum propter optimi 
codicis Palatini auctoritatem tum quia numerosius sic verba 
cadunt. Quae si vera lectio est, etiam hic Graecae linguae ves- 
tigia agnoscenda censeo, ut mec pro μηδέ sit; quod autem in 
enuntiatione et relativa et optativa intendendi causa particula 
adhibetur, id fortasse ne in Graeco quidem sermone multum in 
usu fuit, neque aliud mihi exemplum in promptu est; sed tamen 
fere simile illud est Antiphontis, I 23, ὃ καὶ ποιήσατε. At Si quis 
aliter sentit, ei demonstrandum erit, zec priscos etiam pro 716 
admisisse; quod ad pervincendum non multum valet is locus, in 
quo solo ita admittitur, Cic. Legg. III 6 nec esto, ubi mez pro nec 
Buecheler I. 1. scribi iussit. 


Rutcers CoLiece. GUILELMUS HAMILTON KIRK. 


THE SYMBOLIC GODS. 


A Greek philosopher, Euhemerus by name, who seems to have Euhemerism. 

been neither fool nor cynic, declared that the gods originally were 
excellent and notable men, transplanted after death to heaven. 
There was alsoa school of Hindu ‘legendarians’ (a@tihasika) 
who made bold, for instance, to reduce the Agvins, the AcFos κοῦροι 
(cf. Vedic divo napata), to the position of pious kings of yore 
(vajanadu punyakrtau'). This is just what the author of the 
Odyssey does (xi. 300 ff): he makes heroes of them, 


‘Kastor, the tamer of horses, and Poludeukes, skilled with his fist... 
They died and received honor like unto the gods.’ 


The possibility of Euhemerism appears in many quarters of 
Indian religious history. The Hindus stood ready at all times to 
efface the line that parts gods and men. The gods sin and ‘ wipe 
off’ their sins on a scape-god Trita who in turn wipes them off on 
wicked men. The gods perform sacrifices. Asceticism or spir- 
itual fervor (¢apas) is a creative instrument in their hands, but 
men vie with them inthis; it becomes necessary at times to divert 
the /apas of great ascetics, when it threatens to shake the founda- 
tions of the universe, by dispatching (in the manner of the St. 
Anthony episode) divine nymphs on their customary mission. In 
Buddhism. the gods are passably good Buddhists, as Professor 
Rhys Davids aptly puts it. The Brahmans say that there are two 
kinds of gods: divine gods, and Brahman gods; from their point 
of view this is, I am sure, neither as naive nor as impudent as it 
has seemed to be at first sight. The gods descend from heaven 
(avatar) and men ascend to be gods. During the last fifty years 
there were still leading Vedanta preachers of the Brahma, so holy, 
so sanctifying in character and example, that their canonization 
by popular voice as Paramahansas, ‘supreme spirits,’ comes dan- 
gerously close to identifying them with God himself. 

We need not attempt to conceive of natural religion, of religion 


1 Yaska Nirukta xii, 1. 


Father- 
Worship. 


38 MAURICE BLOOMFIELD. 


that is not controlled by academic commands, as ever entirely 
free from hero worship: the hero may be canonized or made 
into a god. The impressive object-lesson of superiority, physical 
or spiritual, may make a god ofa tribal chief, a Roman emperor, 
or a Hindu ascetic. This is the true element in Euhemerism: in 
the outer world that surrounds each human being, there is a 
power, constant, intimate and compelling, namely, the power of 
other men. Let this but exhibit itself dominant or helpful to an 
unusual degree, and it must be conciliated or gratefully adored; 
here is some of the raw material out of which a god may be made. 
Yet science has wisely repudiated Euhemerism as a general 
theory of religion, because the contact between man and man is 
but a patch of the complex tissue of existence; there are other 
relations which man has to establish with forces even more exact- 
ing, and certainly more mysterious. At the present time Euhe- 
merists are trying their hand exceedingly in the explanation of 
Vedic mythology. The theory is a convenient catch-all for almost 
any mythological fact of obscure origin, for it obliterates conve- 
niently the distinction between things hard to interpret and things 
that require no interpretation at all. 

Worship of the Manes (Fathers and Mothers) is in principle 
not very different from the preceding. What shall primitive man 
do with his deceased relations that have become poor relations 
all at once? Death does not rid him of them, for they appear in 
dreams and visions. They hover over the hearth, they are at the 
table and must be fed. The ¢rdddhas, feasts set out for the 
Fathers, are the most important religious act of the ordinary 
Hindu. The Greek δαίμων (ἀνθρωποδαίμων) and ἥρως require per- 
sonal attention. The same is true of the Roman Lares and 
Penates who are coupled with the worship of Vesta, the goddess 
of the hearth; they all testify to the persistent intimacy between 
the living and the dead. Worship of the dead is an important 
factor in religion, rising here and there to a supreme position. It 
is predestined also to assimilate itself to god-worship. The dead 
may require order and government like the living; hence the 
Chthonic gods (Hades and Persephone, χθόνιοι θεοί) rule the spirits 
of the dead (χθόνιοι, ἔνεροι). Or there may be a Father Epony- 
mos, a pioneer Father, who discovers the permanent abode of the 
departed ; hence Yama, the son of Vivasvant, who has found the 


1 Fairbanks, A. J. Ph. xxi. 243. 


THE SYMBOLIC GODS. 39 


bright places where the Fathers carry on a delightful existence in 
his company. Yama is first of all a king; next, king of the dead, 
Pluto; and finally a god. 

In primitive times a rich field for religious impressions is found 
in what is usually spoken of as animism or spiritism. Both terms 
are open to objection; they can not belong to a primitive stage of 
religious evolution, since soul and spirit with their implied human 
twofoldness, baffling even to the modern philosopher, can not be 
counted conceptions of primitive savage man. But the narrower 
and best sense in which animism is used is not to be misunder- 
stood; I mean what might be more properly called automor- 
phism. Taking as a class the living organic beings ordinarily 
seen, that is, man himself and the animal world beside himself, 
we know that they are reproduced in man’s consciousness in 
countless exalted and distorted forms. That is to say, they serve 
as a suggestion for other shapes, other bodies that evolve them- 
selves before the mind with a degree of reality scarcely less than 
that of the man and beasts he meets in his daily life. Night, full 
of vague and flitting shapes; the fire that dispels them, while 
itself producing them; the clouds and vapors that hover over 
mountains and marshes reproduce and exaggerate the shapes of 
men and beasts to the point of independent creation, almost ex 
nthilo, Dreams, nightmares, delirium, and hallucination fill the 
mind with delightful and monstrous fancies in which the auto- 
morphic figures become so real that they may not be doubted. 
The Upanisads, an intellectually far advanced product of the 
Hindu mind, pretty nearly, if not quite, believe in the reality of 
dream-life. By its own light the human mind fashions the 
materials seen while awake into a new world of forms: 


‘In the state of dream he roameth up and down 
As a god creates for himself many forms, 
Now joyfully dallying with women, 
Now beholding monstrous forms.’ 
—Brhad-Aranyaka-Upanisad iv. 3. 13. 


How inextricable is the mutual entanglement of real and 
visionary life in the consciousness of early man we can scarcely 
realize, still less certainly can we count the number of more or 
less divine personalities, especially of the uncanny, demoniac sort, 
that have been recruited from visions. 


‘Auto- 
morphism.’ 


40 MAURICE BLOOMFIELD. 


Nature- All this material for making gods taken collectively is in reality 
Worship. nothing but the deification of human persons, or persons shaped 
in the image of man. The religious object is the will of these 
persons; the religious motive is their conciliation; the religious 
act is praising and giving to these persons, that is, prayer and 
sacrifice. Now the discovery of the Veda has established the 
following important fact. From what precedes we may presume 
that primitive man was conscious of his own power of perception 
and volition, else how could he ascribe to others helpful or dis- 
turbing exercise of these functions? The Vedic hymns, though 
themselves high up in the scale of human production, have con- 
vinced us that primitive man at his very awakening to conscious- 
ness extended these simple processes of reasoning to inanimate 
nature, or, let us say even more broadly, to his inanimate sur- 
roundings. The phenomena and forces of nature, no less than the 
human and automorphic shapes are ever active; man’s being and 
well-being is altogether dependent upon them. The earth that 
nourishes ; the heavens that fructify the earth (father and mother) ; 
the sun, source of light; wind, rain, lightning and fire; they are 
allin motion and action. They are all, too, forces which man is 
bound to recognize as superior to himself. A simple step forward 
in primitive reasoning endows these forces with will and intention, 
personification follows of sheer necessity, and again man must 
establish a szodus vivendi with these persons. The grander forces 
of nature are not the only living things. The forest is alive with 
trees, the plain with plants; the rivers with waters; the moun- 
tains with clouds; and even rocks and stones, more or less 
shaped, simulate form, life, will and intention. These processes 
go on as civilization dots the environment of man with artificial 
objects. The sheltering house has life, personality, and divinity ; 
the ‘goddess furrow,’ Sita, becomes in time one of the most 
charming figures of Hindu myth and story; the nourishing por- 
ridge, that puts on a home-spun garment, the staple fee of the 
Brahmans, in a moment of recklessness turns god; the battle- 
drum, the spear and the ‘trusty blade,’* and even the senseless 
stone or stump by the road-side (fetish) may be at any moment 
irradiated by the will and intention that is seen shining in them to 
such an extent that they appear to be gods. 


1Beowulf’s swords, Naegling and Hrunting; King Arthur’s Escalaber. 
Cf, Gummere, Germanic Origins, p. 246. 


THE SYMBOLIC GODS. 41 


But there is left over a kind of god even more shadowy than 
many of those egoistic (and egotistic) personages who can 
exercise their wills in a manner favorably or unfavorably to man. 
I mean the abstract gods, according to the usual designation; 
since, however, many of the abstract gods are not entirely 
abstract, let us say the symbolic gods. To this there can be no 
objection whatever; this type of divinity at whatsoever stage of 
development we may meet with it symbolizes something desired 
or feared. It is a quality or condition, good or bad, useful or 
noxious, that has turned divine; the quality itself may exist in 
nature, but it is not the special property of any one natural object. 
More often the quality is even more subjective; it exists only in 
the mind. Such gods, for instance, as ‘ Health,’ and ‘Immor- 
tality’; ‘ Fear,’ and ‘Grudge,’ are symbolic to the last degree, 
they simply record a desire, an anxiety, a fear, an aversion. To 
sum up, the so-called abstract gods are the symbolic gods, in the 
first instance nothing but mental experiences of qualities, good 
and bad, subjective valuations of these qualities from the personal 
point of view of a given individual. We may, therefore, also 
define them as subjective gods, in distinction from all the other 
classes of gods, outlined at the beginning, who are in some way 
based upon an object, who are objective. 

If lam not mistaken, the chronology of the symbolic gods is 
implied in the definition just given. I mean, as my readers will 
easily guess, that they are primitive, that the state of mind needed 
to form them is absolutely that of natural man; if the state of 
mind existed, some form of expressing it is not likely to have 
long been wanting. There is, to be sure, a vague feeling among 
readers of religious literature that there is something ‘ secondary’ 
about these gods. We need but remember Virtue, Honor, Repu- 
tation, Love, and Hate, all spelled with capital letters, all common 
in modern poetry and oratory, to understand that symbolic divini- 
ties can be, and no doubt largely are the product of an advanced, 
artistic, plastic, reflective state of mind. That they are almost as 
common in Homer, Hesiod and the Veda as with modern poets 
proves only that ancient poetry operates with the same instru- 
ments and figures as modern poetry; or shall we say that modern 
poetry has not weaned itself from ancient models in this respect ? 
The appeal to the imagination made by such glib personifications 
has at all times found response; they count among the safest 


Symbolic 
Gods 
Defined. 


Chronology 
of the 
Symbolic 
Gods. 


How 
Symbolic 
Gods 

are Made. 


42 MAURICE BLOOMFIELD. 


assets of him that speaks poetically or rhetorically. But though 
the records of artistic literature can tell us nothing about the actual 
time when these gods began, we may nevertheless reason safely 
that they are founded upon the bed-rock of early human con- 
sciousness. Can we imagine a time when a savage shaking with 
ague in the forest, or in his primitive hut, did not crave the quality 
‘warm’; or, when burning with fever, did not long for the quality 
‘cool’? The Atharva-Veda ‘makes obeisance’ to ‘cool and to 
hot fever.’ In various parts of the earth fever is cured by tying 
a frog, the coolest of animals, to the body of the patient. 

The Veda has taught us the lesson of the nature-gods (anthro- 
pomorphic gods), so that we shall not forget it; it may serve us 
equally well with the symbolic gods. Symbolism is based upon 
the crude notion that qualities have a kind of independent indi- 
vidual existence, aside from the concrete objects that possess a 
given quality. Let us take, e. g., the obvious fact that there is 
much in nature round about man that is red in color. Primitive 
man, though notoriously awkward in devising names for color, 
was surely conscious of that color-quality which we call red, as 
well as of the other principal colors. Now in jaundice the com- 
plexion turns yellow; yet all about in nature there is the quality 
‘red.’ Naturally, the wish and aim of the jaundiced person is to 
apply to himself the abundant redness that is in nature: ‘ Oh, 
that I were red, instead of yellow!’ He wishes red, he wishes 
away yellow: the wish positive or negative in connection with 
some quality is surely the first step in making a symbolic god. 
And now the wish is realized as much as possible, first in thought 
next in exclamation (prayer), and finally by hugging the desired 
quality as closely as may be, and by removing (exorcising) the 
abhorrent quality. This is charm and amulet. Red, the color of 
life and health (‘heute roth morgen todt’) is the quality, destined 
to become a god to those suffering from jaundice, and, less par- 
ticularly, to all that crave health and life: 

‘Up to the sun shall go thy jaundice, in the color of the red 
bull do we envelop thee.’ 

‘Into parrots, thrushes, and yellow wag-tails (sofa bene, all 
yellow birds) do we put thy jaundice. —(A¢harva- Veda i. 22). 
And then something red is placed upon the patient to be worn as 
an amulet. 


THE SYMBOLIC GODS. 43 


Soon we have a god ‘ Red’ (Rohita). Now begins the process 
of piling upon this very simple fiction all possible myth-making acts 
derived from the grosser sphere of the visible gods. The thing 
that is most especially red and lusty in great nature is the sun; 
the god of red quality, Rohita, is drawn irresistibly to become an 
attribute, a special manifestation of the sun-god. It is not good 
for a god, any more than for man, to be alone; from the rib of 
the god Rohita (masculine, ‘ He-Red’) is fashioned Rohini (femi- 
nine, ‘She-Red’). After that we may leave the happy couple to 
the tender mercies of poets, story-tellers, old women in the 
nursery, and even to philosophers ; they will paint the two figures, 
with such outline, color, and perspective as they can command, 
into the great picture of the national pantheon. 

Let me hold closely to the thread of my argument. The simple- 
minded reasoning at the bottom of all this is that the quality Red, 
having some sort of objective existence, is in truth itself an object; 
if an object, we know from what has preceded, that it may have 
will; if will, intention: again, the real purpose of the god-making 
act is to coax that intention, so that it may be favorable to him 
that coaxes. Color is a very noticeable, a very salient quality, 
but any quality will do; so, e. g., audible quality, the sound of a 
thing as conveyed by its very name. We may take it for granted 
that primitive folk are not able to distinguish very sharply 
between the name of a thing and its other more inherent quali- 
ties; yea, for that matter, between the name of a thing and the 
thing itself. Natural man manipulates language sensitively and 
fruitfully, without the interference that comes from a critical under- 
standing of the processes of word-making. He is full of the 
belief—not quite dead yet—that the names of things are there by 
nature (pice); he is not the least bit worried by the truth that he 
himself and his ancestors have invented the names and have 
attached them to things (θέσει). 

The Hindus were great grammarians and phonetists, but they 
never seemed able, not even in their Brahmanical and Buddhistic 
philosophies, to hold apart the names and the essence of things 
(nama and ripa). Hence their etymologies are almost invariably 
childish and silly. If the name of anything sounds in a certain 
way, that sound is for them as much part of the thing as its chem- 
ical constituents. Therefore the name, no less inherent a quality 
than the color of a thing, may become a trusted basis for making 


The 
God ‘Red. 


Verbal 
Gods. 


44 MAURICE BLOOMFIELD. 


divinities (xomina numina). There is a ‘god barley.’ The 
name of barley is yava; the verb stem yavaya means ‘defend.’ 
The common formula, yavo’si yavayasmad dvesah ‘barley (2. é., 
defender) art thou, defend us from hatred,’ catches the theogonic 
process in the very act. It is easy to prove the example: ifin San- 
skrit yava were sounded with the sounds of hordeum, gerste, or ζειαί, 
there would be no god ‘barley.’ The Sanskrit word for life and 
living is jzva; any plant that has a similar sound, like 7ivantz or 
jivala is life-giving, has supernatural power by virtue of its name. 
A favorite plant for sorcery is called afamarga; its power comes 
to it from its supposed etymological connection with the verb 
apa-marj ‘wipe away.’ In Hindu charms this plant is constantly 
implored to wipe away diseases, to wipe out demons and wizards, 
to wipe off sins and evils of all sorts. For better or for worse the 
real divine element here is the ‘ god wiper.’ 
Mythology In this remote corner of the land of myth we may find a safe, 
ἣν ae though very modest, home for the famous theory that myths are 
a disease of language. If we regard, as was once the fashion, 
analogy in language as a disease (‘false analogy ’), then mythology 
is a disease of language precisely in the degree that mythic 
figures are created or strongly modified by analogy at work upon 
the names ofthese mythic figures. ᾿Αφροδίτη and ᾿Αφροδύτη, whether 
they come from Shemitic Ishtar or not, are surely names the 
first of which coquets with ἀφρός ‘foam,’ the second both with 
ἀφρός and δύω ‘enter.’ If once these two verbal ideas were read 
into the name of the ‘foam-born’ goddess they became as much 
part of her mythogonic apparatus as was the famous root dyu 
‘shine’ in the production of Ζεύς. Again and again the Hindu 
myth makes female relatives for mighty (¢akva) Indra out of 
words for strength. Indra is at first ¢aczpatz, ‘lord of might.’ 
But fat happens to mean ‘husband’ as well as ‘lord’; ¢acipatz 
is thought to mean ‘husband of Caci’; hence we have his ‘steady 
company’ wife Caci. Another, rather temporary wife, Prasaha, 
is similarly abstracted from another of Indra’s epithets, Jrasahas- 
pati ‘lord of strength.’ His mother Cavasi ‘Strength’ is a pain- 
fully obvious precipitate from Indra’s epithets ¢avasah sainmuh and 
putrah ¢avasah ‘son of strength’; from the stem ¢avas ‘strength’ 
the old lady is derived with the help of the obligato feminine 
ending ἢ. Sanskrit scholars need not be reminded that suva,a 
common classical word for ‘god’ is but a pendant to asura ‘ devil,’ 


THE SYMBOLIC GODS. 45 


at a time when the latter word was felt in popular etymology to 
be a-sura ‘not bright.’ But asura at first meant simply ‘spirit.’ 
The goddess Diti, of undefinable character, is but an afterthought 
to Aditi, the goddess ‘Boundlessness.’* I suspect that Aditi 
also, that vague and elusive mother of the substantial Indo- 
Iranian Adityas (Mitra, Varuna, Aryaman, Bhaga), herself un- 
known in the Avesta, is an abstraction. If we get ourselves to 
regard the additya as the ‘gods of old’ (adz ‘beginning’ + suffix 
‘tya’) we have an epithet that fits them marvellously well; grant 
but the least darkening of the meaning of this adjective, its least 
advance from epithet to mythic person, and Aditi results almost 
of necessity as the basis of the seeming patronymic dditya. 

We are ripe now for the final statement: Any quality, how- 
soever abstract it may seem to us, presents itself to natural man 
as something solipsistic; it is a thing Jer se; the visible quality 
‘red,’ the audible quality ‘defending’ can claim no advantage 
over the quality ‘down’ in such formulas as the following: 

‘Thou that makest all men sallow, inflaming them like a sear- 
ing fire, even now, O Fever, thou shalt become void of strength ; 
do thou now go away down, aye, into the depths \’—(Atharva- 

Veda v. 22. 2.) 

Or, another time: 

‘Down bloweth the wind, down burneth the sun, the cow is 
milked downward—down shall go thy ailment !’—(Aig- Veda x. 
60. II.) 

There is no god ‘Down’ or ‘Downer’, but it seems to me that 
I see the fumes over the alembic condensing and shaping them- 
selves into such a one; if there is no such god, clearly there might 
have been. 

Professor Usener, in his learned, important and—barring cer- 
tain etymologies not quite ἃ /a mode—altogether delightful book, 
“Gotternamen,’ has proposed the name ‘sondergétter’ for this 
style of god; Professor Gildersleeve’ happily translates the word 
by ‘specialist gods.’ It seems to me that the name is a little too 
broad, and not quite as definite as it should be for the class of forma- 
tions which we are discussing; it fails to bring out the subjective 


1Cf. the purely linguistic production of duhkha ‘ miserable,’ out of sukha 
‘pleasant’ (primarily of a chariot, ‘having well-drilled naves of the 
wheels’); orthe tentative ἐπ γαλᾷ ‘ perdition’ as pendant to svgha ‘ hail.’ 
2A. J. Ph. xvii. 356 ff. 


Complete 
Abstractions. 


Professor 
Usener’s 
“Specialist 
Gods.’ 


Haurvatat 
and 
Ameretat; 
the Goddess 
‘Grudge.’ 


46 MAURICE BLOOMFIELD. 


element upon which I am endeavoring to lay stress. The god 
Agni ‘Fire,’ or even Ζεύς ‘shining sky,’ is also a specialist god; 
where, indeed, do we find anything but specialist gods, until there 
comes that final reflection which gathers up the 33 or the 3333 
gods into a single god, or extracts all their virtue into a monistic 
or pantheistic menstruum? The really important distinction in 
the whole domain of god-making is between ready-made indi- 
viduals and individual objects on the one hand, and subjective 
states of mind born of man’s adjustment of himself to his sur- 
roundings in general, and enlivened by keen desire or fear into 
objective reality ; heroes, Fathers, visionary personages, nature- 
forces, nature-objects and artificial objects on the one side, desires 
and fears on the other. In daily life, with a simplicity that car- 
ries us back to rudimentary human emotion, we still exclaim, or 
think, ‘I wish I had,’ ‘I wish I were,’ and proceed to build a 
castle in the air or in Spain. The passionate wish and the lurid 
fear have in folk-lore always tended to a certain kind of realiza- 
tion. The gift of a certain number of wishes (usually three)’ ; 
the wishing-cap and the magic wand; the bodily potency of the 
curse (wish of another, hostile wish), and the evil eye show how 
subjective emotion is conceived to glide over into objective 
reality. It is purely a matter of insistence; the shadowy figure, 
conjured up before the mind again and again, thickens in sub- 
stance, grows sharper in its outline, becomes more and more visu- 
alized, so to speak, every time it presents itself to desiring and 
fearing man, 

The natural Aryan (Indo-Iranian) man cries out after 
health and immortality in endless exclamations that contain 
the words sarva ‘sound’ and amrta ‘immortal.’ One Aryan 
people, the Persians, have made gods of these two prime desires. 
Haurvatat and Ameretat (Khordad and Murdad), mere abstract 
nouns from the adjectives just mentioned, figure among Ahura 
Mazda’s angels, the Ameshaspents ; they rule over the plants and 
waters that ward off disease; they are the gods of nutrition; they 
smite hunger and thirst; they nourish the blessed in Paradise. 

The Brahman authors of the Vedic hymns get their living from 
those for whom they sing and sacrifice. Naturally they love the 
generous giver; their dislike of the stingy, grudging, or even 
poor employer, knows no bounds, and is expressed in a fashion 


1See AV xi. 1. 10; Sacred Books of the East xlii. 181, 613. 


THE SYMBOLIC GODS. 47 


that is the reverse of mealy-mouthed in numberless passages. 
One way of describing these much-disliked persons is a@-7z, ‘he 
that gives no wealth’ (7z,a form of the stem in Lat. ves); the 
abstract noun corresponding to avz is aratz ‘ungenerousness,’ 
‘grudge,’ ‘avarice. The pretty hymn, Atharva-Veda v. 7, dis- 
closes Arati as a full-fledged person; she is ‘ golden-complexioned, 
lovely, rests upon golden cushions,’ in fact, quite an Apsaras or 
‘schone Teufelinne’; yet she is cajoled to go away: 

‘Bring wealth to us, do not stand in our way, O, Arati; do not 
keep from us the sacrificial fee, when it is being taken (to us) ! 
Adoration be to the power of grudge, the power of failure, adora- 
tion to Arati’! 

‘Him whom I implore with holy speech (Vac Sarasvati), the 
yoke-fellow of thought, the faith (that manifests itself through 
gifts) shall find to-day, aroused (in him) by the brown soma- 
drink’! 

‘To the golden-complexioned, lovely one, who rests upon 
golden cushions, to the great one, to that Arati who wears golden 
robes, I have rendered homage.’ 

We must not forget that the symbolic gods are not all common- 
place or mean like Haurvatat and Arati. The most exalted divine 
conception of gentile folk, Brahma, is the symbol of pious thought 
and holy utterance (Adyos), the outpouring of the soul in its highest 
longings; it is the best wish of a spiritually-minded and gifted 
people that has become divine essence and universal personal 
god. 

It is true, however, that the symbolic gods are largely oppor- 
tunist, very special, and even momentary ; it is ordinarily not easy 
to personify and to surround with myth transparent subjective 
states of mind. The names of symbolic gods are slow to congeal 
into proper names, because they are checked by the entire family 
of words to which they belong. It is after all rather wonderful 
that a conception like Arati does take on so much flesh and blood. 
They make up*for this restriction by their endless number; many 
as are the visible objects that may be deified, more is the number 
of human moods, desires and ideals, fears and aversions. Those 
diaphanous names share in all the processes of language; analogy 
steps in and makes them almost unhealthily productive. Con- 
siderable as may have been the significance of the az certi of the 
Roman indigifamenta we must not take them too seriously. The 


Brahma. 


Distinction 
Between 
Symbolic 
and 
Objective 
Gods. 


48 MAURICE BLOOMFIELD. 


engrossing and loving care of child-life has produced over forty : 
Vaticanus prompts the child’s first cry ; Fabulinus, the beginnings 
of hisspeech; Edusa teaches him how to eat, Potina how to drink; 
he leaves the house with Abeona, Iterduca guides him on the way ; 
Domiduca brings him home again, ete. It is almost like a noun- 
suffix that has gained favor and started on a career of indefinite 
propagation. After all these gods are to the end little more than 
formulated wishes. 

The Sanskrit gods ending in faéz ‘lord,’ beyond a certain 
point, are similarly verbal and analogical rather than corporeal. 
They range from the ‘lord of food,’ (axnapatz), ‘lord of wealth’ 
(dhanapatz), ‘lord of the field’ (Asetvapatz),‘ lord of the chariot’ 
(vathaspati), ‘lord (or lady) of the home’ (vastospati, sadaspati, 
and manasya patni), to the much loftier conceptions, ‘lord of 
speech’ (vdacaspatz), ‘lord of wisdom’ (medhaspatz), ‘lord of 
righteousness’ (dharmanaspati), and ‘lord of divine order’ 
(rtaspati). In many of them thes that precedes azz is purely 
analogical (vathaspati, rtaspati, etc.). And what does it all 
mean? After all nothing but the varying desires of the meaner 
or better human nature. And so to the end of the chapter, 
although different times, different symbolic gods. At one time, 
Liberty, Equality, Fraternity ; at another, Humanity and Cosmo- 
politanism ; again, Civilization, Colonization, and the Over-God- 
dess Commerce. But the wish remains father to the god. 


Jouns Hopkins UNIVERSITY. 


MAURICE BLOOMFIELD. 


THE USE OF THE SIMPLE FOR THE COMPOUND 
VERB IN PERSIUS. 


The historical development of the Latin language presents few 
phenomena of greater interest and importance than the peculiari- 
ties which mark the literature of the Silver Age. That the Latin 
of this period differs widely from that of the last century of the 
Republic is well known, though very many of the details are but 
imperfectly understood. The variety and complexity of the 
literary forces which combined to produce what is commonly 
called Silver Latinity, make it exceedingly difficult to estimate 
correctly the stylistic character of the individual author and that 
of the time. The training of the grammatical and rhetorical 
schools, the encroachments of the language of daily life, the 
careful study of the old masters, especially of Vergil and of 
Horace, and the professed aversion to uniformity in writing—all 
these and other influences united in the formation of a literary 
medium which is at once brilliant and commonplace, brilliant on 
account of its bold imagery and rhetorical coloring, commonplace 
because of the lack of transcendent genius and the monotonous 
recurrence of old forms. One of the most remarkable features of 
the later period, to which comparatively little attention has 
hitherto been paid, is the use of the simple for the compound 
verb. Iiva recently published paper’ I attempted to show, on the 
basis of examples collected from the satires of Juvenal, the nature 
and effect of this substitution, and to point out some of the influ- 
ences which were at work in its propagation as an element of 
style. The use of the simple verb:in this pregnant sense is seen 
now and then in the poetry of the Republic and even in Cicero, 
while in Vergil—to some extent, no doubt, for metrical conveni- 
ence—the simple forms are often adopted where the sense of the 
compound is required by the context. And yet, though by no 


'«The Use of the Simple for the Compound Verb in Juvenal,’ in Trans- 
actions of the American Philological Association, XX XI, 1900, pp. 202-222. 
For the sake of brevity this article has been referred to below as Juvenal. 

4 


50 HARRY LANGFORD WILSON. 


means a rarity in the classical period, this use is essentially a 
characteristic of the Silver Age, for not till then did it reach its 
full development. 

The principal influences which caused this feature of style to 
become so widespread during the first two centuries of the 
Empire were the preservation of the simple verb in the sense of 
the compound from the archaic period, especially in religious and 
legal formulae, the more frequent appearance on the surface of 
the normally hidden undercurrent of popular speech, and the 
general dependence on the poetic models of the Augustan Age 
which is evident in the diction even of the later prose." These 
influences, in some respects distinct, are yet so interwoven that 
it is often impossible to separate them, and the attempt to do 
so in most cases produces a result which is only partial and 
unsatisfactory. An effort to distinguish between the colloquial 
and the archaic elements in Apuleius, for example, cannot pro- 
ceed very far so long as our knowledge of the spoken language 
is confined within the present narrow limits. On the other hand, 
the elevated diction of poetry reaching out after new and attrac- 
tive forms in many respects runs parallel to the sermo cotidianus, 
whose leading characteristic is fondness for the novel and the strik- 
ing in expression.’? It has been said that Persius on the vantage 
ground ofa secure social position displays greater freedom in his 
use of colloquialisms than Horace the freedman’s son.’ On the 
whole, this is doubtless true; but there are in Persius only three 
simple verbs, used as substitutes for the compound form, that 
are clearly colloquial, a far smaller proportion than in Juvenal.* 
On the other hand, a comparison with the usage of the later 
satirist shows that Persius had more frequent recourse to this 
device, though few of his examples are as bold and striking as 
many of those in Juvenal; in other words, the use of the simple 
for the compound verb in Persius is more closely in line with the 
normal poetic diction of his time.’ 


1 Fora discussion of these influences see Juvenal, l.c., pp. 204, 205, 209 f. 

2 Compare Juvenal, 1. c., pp. 205, 210. 

3Teuffel, Studien ἃ. Char.!, p. 407; Gildersleeve, Introd. to Persius, 
p. xxviii. 

4 Compare Juvenal, 1. c., pp. 205 ff. 

5The proportion of usage is one example for every 25% verses in 
Juvenal; in Persius, one for every 20 verses, Persius has 17 simple verbs 


THE SIMPLE VERB IN PERSIUS. 51 


*Cadere for decidere.—3, 102 uncta cadunt lJaxis tunc pulmen- 
taria labris. Cf. Juv. (l.c., p.210), who uses decidere in the same 
connection (6, 434). A metaphorical extension of this use is seen 
in 5, 91 sed ira cadat naso rugosaque sanna. 

* Claudere for concludere.—a) 5, 11 f. clauso murmure raucus 
nescio quid tecum grave cornicaris inepte. This stands in a 
passage which, as scholiast and edd. remark, is a reminiscence of 
Hor. Sat. 1, 4, 19 f., but the reading in the latter is conclusas 
hircinis follibus auras. A similar instance is found in Ovid, Fast. 
6, 277 f. suspensus in aére clauso stat globus. ὁ) 1, 93 claudere 
sic versum didicit; so [Verg.] Ciris 20 et gracilem molli liceat 
pede claudere versum. Cf.,on the other hand, Hor. Sat. 1, 4, 4of. 
neque enim concludere versum dixeris esse satis; Cic. de Orat. 
3, 48, 184 verba versu includere, and Juv., l.c., p. 211 f., 5. v. clau- 
dere for includere. 

*Ducere for educere.—5, 4 vulnera seu Parthi ducentis ab 
inguine ferrum; Verg. Aen. 12, 378 ducto mucrone; Ovid, Fast. 
4, 929 vagina ducere ferrum; Sil. 8, 340 vagina ducitur ensis. 
The regular word in prose, however, is educere; see, for example, 
GacsuienG.s) 22.0.8 Cie, |\Inv.)2).4) τὰ 1 58}1}. Cate δὲ, 360 ἘΠ 
Jays) cs) pi.233. 

Ferre for afferre.—a) 2,53 dona ferens. This expression is 
very common; examples are Verg. Geo. 3, 22 dona feram; id. 
Aen. 2, 49 dona ferentes; Ovid, Her. 1, 27; Stat. Theb. 6, 168; 
id. Ach. 2, 146. Cf., however, Ovid, A. A. 2, 264 adferat in 
calatho rustica dona puer. ὁ) 3, 48 f. quid dexter senio ferret, 
scire erat in voto. Similarly Verg. Aen. 11, 345 fortuna populi 
quid ferat, but cf. Cic. N. D. 2, 63, 158 quid enim oves aliud 
adferunt ? 

Findere for diffindere.—3, 8 f. turgescit vitrea bilis: ‘findor’ ; 
Plaut. Bacch. 251 cor meum et cerebrum... finditur. The use 
of thesimple verb with reference to passion is doubtless colloquial,’ 
but in other connections it is common in poetry. Examples are 
Verg. Aen. 9, 413 fisso transit praecordia ligno, and Ovid, Med. 
Fac. 39 nec mediae Marsis finduntur cantibus angues. 


used for 19 different compounds, and a total of 33 examples; Juvenal, 42 
simple verbs used for 63 different compounds, and a total of 150 examples. 
Only seven simple verbs are so employed by both in common: these are 
indicated in the present paper by asterisks. 

1Cf, Otto, SprichwGrter, p. 303, note. 


52 HARRY LANGFORD WILSON. 


* Hlaerere for inhaerere.—5, 121 haereat in stultis brevis ut 
semuncia recti. Cf. Cic. Tusc. 4, 11, 24 inhaeret in visceribus 
illud malum, and Juv., 1. c., p. 215. 

Pellere for expellere.—t, 83 f. nilne pudet capiti non posse peri- 
cula cano pellere? Similar instances are not rare in poetry, e. g. 
Verg. Aen. 6, 382 f. pulsus parumper corde dolor tristi; Hor. C. 
2, 2,14; Ovid, Met. 14, 216; Sil. 7, 300, and even in prose, e. g. 
Cic. Fin. 1, 13, 43 (Sapientia) maestitiam pellat ex animis, though 
here the phrase accounts to some extent for the absence of the 
prefix. 

*Ponere for apponere.—ti, 53 calidum scis ponere sumen; 
3, 111 f. positum est algente catino durum holus; 6, 23 nec 
rhombos ideo libertis ponere lautus. There is a striking passage 
in Martial in which he plays on this word, using it thrice, each 
time in the sense of a different compound’: 1, 43, 12 ff. ponere 
aprum nobis sic et harena solet. ponatur tibi nullus aper post 
talia facta, sed tu ponaris cui Charidemus apro. For further 
illustration of the colloquial use of ponere ‘serve up’ (at table), 
see Juv., 1. c., p. 206. 

* Ponere for proponere.—t1, 86 f. doctas posuisse figuras lau- 
datur; 5, 3 fabula seu maesto ponatur hianda tragoedo; Cic. 
Tusc. 1, 4, 7 ponere iubebam, de quo quis audire vellet. Cf. the 
use of θεῖναι (θέσις) and Gildersleeve’s note to Persius 5, 3. 
Possibly the technical term fonere ‘paint’ should be included 
here: 1,70 f. nec ponere lucum artifices. Cf. Juvenal, l.c., p. 222. 

Premere for comprimere.—5, 11 folle premis ventos; 5, 109 es 
modicus voti? presso lare? Similarly Verg. Geo. 1, 410 f. corvi 
presso ter gutture voces aut quater ingeminant; Hor. Epist. 
1, 16, 37 contendat laqueo collum pressisse paternum ; Ovid, Met. 
9, 78 angebar, ceu guttura forcipe pressus. In such connections 
comprimere is quite regular; cf. Ter. Phor. 868 animam com- 
pressi, aurem admovi. 

Radere for eradere.—z2, 66 f. bacam conchae rasisse . . . iussit ; 
3, 49 f. damnosa canicula quantum raderet. For illustrations see 
Ovid, Am. 1, 11, 22 littera rasa, and Tac. Ann. 3, 17, 8 nomen 
Pisonis radendum fastis censuit. Cf.,on the other hand, ibid. 
4, 42,3 Merulam ... albo senatorio erasit. The natural use of 
vadere is seen in 3, 114 (ulcus) haud deceat plebeia radere beta, 


1 Proponere, apponere and opponere ; compare the similar play on different 
uses of agere in Mart. 1, 79. 


THE SIMPLE VERB IN PERSIUS. 53 


and deradere occurs in 4, 29 seriolae veterem metuens deradere 
limum. 

Rapere for abripere.—1, 100 f. et raptum vitulo caput ablatura 
superbo Bassaris; Ovid, Met. 13, 771 f. “lumen” que, “ quod 
unum fronte geris media, rapiet tibi” dixit ‘“‘Ulixes.” For the 
use of the compound cf. 5, 159 canis nodum abripit; Plaut. Men. 
193 nasum abreptum; lustin. 15, 3, 8 abreptaque lingua feram 
exanimavit, and Claudian, Rapt. Pros. 2, 342 abreptasque dolet 
iam non sibi crescere fibras. 

Rapere for corripere.—5, 141 f. nihil obstat, quin trabe vasta 
Aegaeum rapias; Verg. Aen. 6, 8 rapit silvas; Stat. Theb. 5, 3 
campum sonipes rapit. In such connections, however, corripere 
is usual, e. g. Verg. Aen. 5, 145 (campum); ib. 5, 316 (spatia); ib. 
I, 418, and Ovid, Met. 2, 158 (viam). 

*Rumpere for dirumpere.—t1, 25 rupto iecore; 3, 27 an deceat 
pulmonem rumpere ventis? 5, 13 nec stloppo tumidas intendis 
rumpere buccas; 5, 158 rupi iam vincula; 5, 185 ovo... rupto; 
6, 27 trabe rupta. Examples of both simple and compound verb 
may be found in Otto, Sprichworter, s. vv. rumpere (p. 303) and 
22 7.5 ΠΡ 301} Cf. Juv. 1. οἱ, ps. 207: 

Scindere for discindere.—5, 154 duplici in diversum scinderis 
hamo; here, as in the passage from Vergil quoted below, the 
phrase suggests the force of the prefix. Plaut. Aul. 234 asini me 
mordicibus scindant; Verg. Aen. 2, 39 scinditur incertum studia 
in contraria voleus; Ovid, Ibis 278 viscera ... scissa; Stat. 
heb. 4, 660) scissas, ... ursas.’ But! ef. Verg,' Geo. 3; 5714 
discissos nudis laniabant dentibus artus. 

Tangere for attingere.—3, 107 tange, miser, venas ; but ib. 108 
summosque pedes attinge manusque. The simple verb seems to 
have been technical in this sense: Sen. Epist. 22, 1 vena tangenda 
est; but Tac. Ann. 6, 50, 4 (medicus) pulsum venarum attigit. In 
Suet. Tib. 72 we find tentare venas. 

Tendere for extendere.—i1, 65 scit tendere versum; cf. Plin. 
N. H. 9, 85 lineam extendere. On the source of this metaphor 
see Gildersleeve’s note. 

Tenere for continere.—5, 99 teneat vetitos inscitia debilis actus.’ 
This use of the simple verb is not rare ina certain sphere of prose 
and may be colloquial; cf. Cic. Vatin. 8, 20 vix risum tenebant; 


1In this case the presence of comtinet in the preceding verse may have 
had an influence. 


54 HARRY LANGFORD WILSON. 


id. Att. 12, 38, 2 sed tenendus dolor est; Hor. A. P. 5 risum 
teneatis amici, and Sen. Epist. 113, 20 ut risum tenere non possis. 

Vomere for evomere.—s, 181 pinguem nebulam vomuere lucer- 
nae; Verg. Aen. 5, 682 stuppa vomens tardum fumum ; Ovid, Ibis 
596 flammas Sicanis Aetna vomit. For the compound form cf. 
Verg. Aen. 8, 252 f. (Cacus) fumum ... evomit, and Sil. 17, 
593 evomuit pastos per saecula Vesbius ignes. 


In order to show how very little attention has been paid to this 
important subject, and at the same time to furnish the interested 
student with a basis for investigation, it may not be out of place 
to conclude with a bibliographical list. Of course, it is not to be 
expected that every casual remark should be recorded here, but 
no important treatment, I believe, has been overlooked. 

C. J. Grysar, Theorie des lateinischen Stiles, 2te Aufl., Koln, 
1843, pp. 18, 255. 

A. Draeger, Historische Syntax der lat. Sprache, 2te Aufl., 
Leipzig, 1878, §85. 

J. H. Schmalz, Lateinische Stilistik, 3te Aufl., Muenchen, 1900, 
§36; in Iw. Miller, Handb. d. kl. Altertumsw. II 2, p. 452. 


The subject has also been taken up, usually with the utmost 
brevity, in the following treatises which deal with the style of 
individual authors. 

M. Kleinschmidt, De Lucili saturarum scriptoris genere dicendi, 
Marpurgi Cattorum, 1883, p. 81. 

L. Constans, De sermone Sallustiano, Paris, 1881, p. 48. 

L. Kuehnast, Die Hauptpunkte der livianischen Syntax, Berlin, 
1972) ou age. 

O. Riemann, Etudes sur la langue et la grammaire de Tite- 
Live, 2° éd., Paris, 1885, pp. 191-200. 

H. Georges, De elocutione M. Velleii Paterculi, Diss., Lipsiae, 
1877, pp. 40 ff. 

H. Felix, Quaestiones grammaticae in Velleium Paterculum, 
Diss., Halle, 1886, p. 20. 

A. Draeger, Ueber Syntax ἃ. Stil des Tacitus, 3te Aufi., 
Leipzig, 1882, pp. 9 f. 

J. Gantrelle, Grammaire et style de Tacite, 2° éd., Paris, 1882, 
p. 4. 

L. Constans, Etude sur la langue de Tacite, Paris, 1893, p. 28. 


THE SIMPLE VERB IN PERSIUS. 55 


A. Czyczkiewicz, Quibus poeticis vocabulis Cornelius Tacitus 
sermonem suum ornaverit, Brody, 1891, pp. 15 f. 

F. Kortz, Quaestiones grammaticae de I. Frontini operibus 
institutae, Iserlohn, 1893, p. 30. 

M. Bonnet, Le latin de Grégoire de Tours, Paris, 1890, pp. 
a3 f. 


Scattered references, too, are found in other works, especially 
in certain standard editions. 

O. Keller, Grammatische Aufsatze, Leipzig, 1895, p. 63. 

L. F. Heindorf, Des Q. Horatius Flaccus Satiren, bearb. v. 
E. F. Wiistemann, Leipzig, 1843, p. 525. 

J. Miitzell, QO. Curti Rufi libri VIII, Berlin, 1841, passim; 6. g. 
note on 5, 32, I, p. 482 (capere = concipere). 

Th. Vogel, Q. Curti Rufi libri qui supersunt, Leipzig, 1875- 
1880, p. 20. 

H. Schenkl, Calpurnii et Nemesiani Bucolica, Leipzig, 1885, 
ΠῚ 170: 

G. F. Hildebrand, L. Apuleii opera omnia, Leipzig, 1842, 
passim ; 6. g. index, 5. v. ferre. 

Guil. Hartel, S. Thasci Caecili Cypriani opera omnia, Vindo- 
bonae, 1868-1871, index, 5. v. spectare. 

E. T. Schultze, De Q. Aurelii Symmachi vocabulorum for- 
mationibus ad sermonem vulgarem pertinentibus, in Diss. Phil. 
Halenses, 6, p. 195 (5. vv. fuscare and fascinare). 

Th. Birt, Claudii Claudiani carmina, Berlin, 1892, passim ; e. g. 
index, s. v. spectare. 

Guil. Hartel, Magni Felicis Ennodii opera omnia, Vindobonae 
1882, index passim, 5. vv. facere, ferre, ponere, spectare, etc. 

H. Roensch, Itala und Vulgata, Marburg, 1875, pp. 374 (parere) 
and 380 (struere). 

Jouns Hopkins UNIVERSITY. 


Harry LANGFORD WILSON. 


Wi ἡ 

ἥν ΝΗ \ VA 

AOR UN) a 
᾿ 


᾿ ΠῚ 
Witten W He bey 
ΝῊ ἢ ἢν Ik ᾿ 


ὅ4) 4 
we 
Nt 


hy 





THE MOTION OF THE VOICE IN CONNECTION 
WITH ACCENT AND ACCENTUAL 
ARSIS' AND ‘THESIS. 


The fact that there is in all articulate speech an element of pitch 
needs no proof. It can be observed in every modern language. 
Its existence could be assumed for ancient Greek and Latin, even 
if there were no recognition of it in the writings of musicians and 
grammarians. Asa matter of fact the presence of pitch in the 
tones of the human voice was considered of sufficient importance 
by many Greek theorists to warrant a formal analysis of the 
manner in which variation up and down took place. 

Our chief authority for this analysis is Aristoxenus of Tarentum. 
In his harmonica elementa, I, §§25 ft., p. 8 Meib., p. το Westph., 
vocal motion is divided into two classes, the continuous (κίνησις 
συνεχής) and the intervallar (κίνησις διαστηματική). In the former the 
variation in pitch is such that the passage from one degree of 
pitch to another is through all intermediate degrees, and the pitch 
is nowhere stationary for a perceptible interval of time. In the 
latter the passage from one degree to another is by a leap, so that 
there is no fluctuation during the production of a note, but the 
pitch remains steady now at this, and now at that, degree. These 
two forms of motion characterize the speaking and the singing 
voice respectively, and the analysis of the pitch-changes seems to 
have been made chiefly for the purpose of differentiating these 
two kinds of utterance. Aristoxenus expressly identifies con- 
tinuous motion with the variation of pitch which takes place in 
speaking, and intervallar motion with that which takes place in 
singing (harm. elem., I, §28, p.9 M, p. 11 W).’ 

Thus a comparison was instituted between the two most 
important forms of human utterance, speech and song, and the 


later writers make the same ora similar classification: Vitruvius, de 
archit., V, 4,2; Aristides Quintilianus, de mus.,I,iv., p.7 M,p. 4, 26 Jahn; 
Cleonides (Pseudo-Euclid), zztrod., 2, p. 180 KvJ ; Gaudentius, zztrod., 1, 
p. 328 KvJ; Claudius Ptolemy, harmon., I, iv., p. ὃ Wallis; Martianus 
Capella, IX, 937 (318 G). 


58 C. WW. LA JORNSON. 


melodic or tonic element in the one was considered in connection 
with that in the other. Variation in pitch is common to both; it 
is the manner of the variation which is different. A succession of 
fixed pitches, that is, of musical notes, subject to certain rules in 
regard to the width of the intervening intervals, constitutes the 
melody of music proper. A succession of fluctuating pitches, 
while it may not conform to so definite rules, nevertheless pre- 
sents a no less interesting phenomenon. Such a succession 
Aristoxenus calls λογῶδές τι μέλος, “ἃ conversational melody ”’ 
(harm. elem., 1, §42, p. 18 M, p. 17 W), Cicero, cantus obscurior 
(or. 17), Dionysius of Halicarnassus, διαλέκτου μέλος (de comp. verb., 
Xi.), τὸ τῆς φωνῆς μέλος, λέγω δ᾽ οὐ τῆς φδικῆς ἀλλὰ τῆς ψιλῆς and τὰ μέλη 
τῶν φθόγγων (1614., xi., fin.). The word προσῳδία and its Latin 
equivalent accentus imply the same conception.’ 

The nature of such prose tunes will depend upon many con- 
siderations. Every language has its own characteristic forms of 
melody, every individual speaker his own variations on the 
national air, if I may call it that. Statements have one form of 
melody, questions another. The various emotions, anger, com- 
passion, hatred, contempt, and so forth, find expression in the tune 
which runs beneath the words. In many languages it would 
seem a hopeless task to formulate the laws which govern pitch- 
changes. Laws there must be, if they could but be unravelled. 
But in the case of ancient Greek, at least, the differences in pitch 
were so marked in point of size and so uniform in occurrence, 
that a formal classification of the variations could be made. Long 
before a system of written accent-signs was devised, the stable 
character of the melodic outline of Greek words as pronounced 
in ordinary speech was recognized. The pitch element in words 
was, it would seem, almost as much a fixed characteristic as is the 
stress or intensity element in English. The pronunciation of the 
individual speaker might present variations (in degree), but each 


1 Diomedes, p. 431, I Keil: accentus est dictus ab accinendo, quod sit 
quasi quidam cuiusque syllabaecantus. apud Graecos quoque ideo προσῳδία 
dicitur, quia προσάδεται ταῖς συλλαβαῖς. Servius, de fin., p. 451, το K: 
accentus autem est quasi adcantus dictus, quod ad cantilenam vocis nos 
facit agnoscere syllabas. Martianus Capella, III, p. 65, 19 Eyss.: et est 
accentus ut quidam putaverunt anima vocis et seminarium musices, quod 
omnis modulatio ex fastigiis vocum gravitateque componitur ideoque 
accentus quasi adcantus dictus est. 


ACCENT AND ACCENTUAL ARSIS AND THESIS. 59 


word within the dialect had at any given epoch a normal scheme 
of high and low pitches, to which the pronunciation of all those 
who spoke the dialect tended to conform. 

The existence of a tonic or melodic accent in the Greek 
language throughout the classical period and down to Roman 
times has been abundantly proved. It is not necessary in this 
connection to review the evidence on which the universal con- 
viction of scholars on this point is based. Besides the testimony 
of Aristoxenus we have that of Plato and Aristotle.' We learn 
from Varro that Theophrastus and Eratosthenes were interested 
in the melodic accent of their language.’ After the invention of 
the written accent marks by Aristophanes of Byzantium the sub- 
ject of correct accentuation became naturally more and more 
important from the point of view of grammar, and the theory of 
the accents was handled by many writers. Dionysius Thrax 
taught that there were three accents, the three which became 
universal, acute, grave, and circumflex. Clear indications of the 
nature of the Greek accent are contained in the de compositione 
verborum of Dionysius of Halicarnassus. He states at the begin- 
ning of chap. xi that prose diction to be artistic must attend to 
these four things, μέλος, ῥυθμός, μεταβολή, and τὸ πρέπον, and in the 
middle of the chapter that variation in pitch takes place within 
the compass of the interval of the fifth. The whole of a word is 
not spoken with the same pitch, but one part with ὀξεῖα τάσις, 
another with βαρεῖα, and another with both (one after the other, of 
course). In chap. xix he speaks of the accents as τάσεις φωνῆς ai 
καλούμεναι προσῳδία. The melodic element in the language was 
evidently. far more important to literary and grammatical studies 
than any intensity or stress element of the sort found in most 
modern languages. Differences in intensity cannot but have 
existed, but in the absence of any formal consideration of them 
by ancient writers, it is reasonable to hold that intensity-variations 
were always affections of the whole sentence and not of individual 
words as such. The parts played in modern English by pitch 
and intensity would thus be reversed in ancient Greek. While 
in English stress concerns chiefly the pronunciation of individual 
words (although there exists an important sentence-stressing 


1 Plato, Crat., 399 A-C; Arist., rAez., III, 1, 4. 
*Varro ap. Serg., de acc., p. 189 Wilm. (Keil, Gv. Zat., IV, p. 530). 


60 C. W. L. JOHNSON. 


superimposed upon the succession of word stresses), and pitch- 
changes affect the sentence as a whole either as an oratorical 
element or as a capricious manifestation of personal taste; in 
Greek, on the contrary, pitch concerned chiefly the pronunciation 
of separate words, and any oratorical effect produced by pitch- 
changes was effected through a superimposed melody demanded 
by the emotional character of the sentence as a whole, in the same 
way that oratorical emphasis is a concern of the whole sentence. 

When we turn to the accentuation of the Latin language, we 
are not surprised, in view of the work done by Greek grammarians 
for their own language, to find that there exists a great mass of 
writing professing to deal with the corresponding phenomenon in 
Latin. But, whereas it is now all but universally conceded that 
the Greek προσῳδίαι were, what their name implies, semi-musical 
affections of words, there is not among Latin scholars the same 
unanimity in regard to the true nature of the Latin accentus. 
One party holds the view that in Latin of the classical period at 
any rate the verbal accent was essentially the same phenomenon 
as was observed by the Greek grammarians in Greek speech. 
The other party, now in a majority, would make the accentus an 
intensity or stress accent of the same general character as the 
accent in modern English and German. It is not my present 
purpose to offer any argument for or against either of these 
views, but it must be admitted by any one who will read the 
passages bearing on the subject in the writings of such authors as 
Cicero, Varro, Vitruvius, and Quintilian, to mention no writer of 
later date, that, rightly or wrongly, these authors though? that 
there existed in their language a verbal melodic accent, strictly 
comparable to the Greek accent. They may have been mistaken. 
If so, we may reject their evidence in reaching a decision as to 
the true nature of the Latin accentus. But even so, it is important 
to analyze the delusion under which they suffered, if only for the 
purpose of appreciating just how far it extended, and just how 
far it invalidates their evidence on other questions closely connected 
with that of the accent, as for example the metrical question. We 
must become alienists for the moment and for the purpose. Evi- 
dently the whole truth can never be reached if we confine ourselves 
to etymological and historical considerations, much less to those 
which are evolved from our inner consciousness. It is imperative 
that we regain the ancient conception of the matter, if we intend 


ACCENT AND ACCENTUAL ARSIS AND THESIS. 61 


to make even the slightest use of the doctrinal matter which the 
ancients have left us. 

Now assuming for Latin a melodic accent, real or imaginary 
according to our preferences, let us consider the phenomenon 
presented to the ear by ancient accent in general, and its treat- 
ment by ancient theorists. For this purpose it will be convenient 
to imagine the changes in pitch values to be represented by a 
line traced by a moving point, in such manner that its motion 
from left to right denotes the passage of time, and its variation 
upward and downward the variation of acuteness and graveness. 

In the first place there are only two possible directions, up and 
down, in which variation can take place. So long as pitch alone 
is under consideration, there is only one dimension for the move- 
ment. But the number of degrees which may be recognized in 
any system of denoting pitch is limited only by the ability which 
the inventor of the system may fancy he possesses to discriminate 
with certainty the finer grades ofpitch. Theoretically there cannot 
be too exact a notation to denote the subtle gradations and varia- 
tions of pitch easily detected by the trained ear. Continuous 
motion demands a more complete notation, if it is to be scien- 
tifically recorded, than does the intervallar motion of music 
proper. In practice however the more complicated the system 
of notation, the more easily will it break down. If the more 
striking variations from the mean tone of the individual voice are 
indicated, a sufficiently accurate record for practical purposes 
would seem to have been devised. 

Another consideration bears upon the kind of motion involved 
in ordinary speech. If the definition in Aristoxenus of the con- 
tinuous and conversational motion conforms to the facts as 
observed (and we have no reason to suppose that it does not), 
there are, strictly speaking, no stationary pitches at all in this 
form of motion. Says Aristoxenus, harm. elem., 1, 826, p.8 M., 
p- 10 W.: “In the continuous movement the voice appears to the 
senses to traverse a certain space in such a way that it rests 
nowhere, not even, so far as our conception of the sensation goes, 
at the bounds, but is borne along continuously until the sound 
ceases.”! Anda little further on he says, 7dzd., §28, p. 9 M., p. 


1 Aristoxenus, harm. elem.,1, 826, p. 8 M: κατὰ μὲν οὖν τὴν συνεχῆ, τόπον 
τινὰ διεξιέναι φαίνεται: ἡ φωνὴ τῇ αἰσθήσει, οὕτως ὡς ἂν μηδαμοῦ ἱσταμένη « ἡ», 
μηδ᾽ ἐπ’ αὐτῶν τῶν περάτων, κατά γε τὴν τῆς αἰσθήσεως φαντασίαν, ἀλλὰ φερομένη 
συνεχῶς μέχρι σιωπῆς. 


62 CG Wi DV VORNSOW. 


11 W.: “‘ Now the continuous movement is, we assert, the move- 
ment of conversational speech, for when we converse, the voice 
moves through a space in such a manner as to seem to rest 
nowhere. In the other movement, which we call intervallar, the 
contrary process takes place. For the voice seems to rest at 
various pitches, and all say of a man who seems to do this, that 
he no longer speaks, but sings. Therefore in conversing we 
avoid having the voice rest unless we are forced at times by 
reason of emotion to resort to this style of movement; but in 
singing we do the reverse, for we avoid the continuous and strive 
to make the voice rest as much as possible. For the more we 
make each of the sounds one and stationary and the same, so 
much the more accurate does the singing seem to the senses. 
It is fairly plain from the above that of the two movements of 
the voice in respect to space, the continuous belongs to con- 
versational speech, the intervallar to song.”’’ 

Now evidently a notation would be severely taxed if it attempted 
to indicate all the glides characteristic of our conversational 
speech. Not only are the bounds of such downward and upward 
movements difficult to determine from the nature of the case, 
supposing it to be true that all speakers employed exactly the 
same glides for the same words, but also the rapidity of the 
ascent or descent would defy accurate analysis. 

A sentence in Greek, then, presented—what is seen in every 
language of which we can to-day study the actual sounds—a 
complicated succession of glides in pitch, some of them short, 
some long, some rapidly, some slowly rising or falling in pitch, 
some beginning and ending on acuter degrees of pitch, some on 
graver degrees, some passing from acute to grave, some from 
grave to acute. 


1 Aristoxenus, arm. elem., 1, 828, p.9, 20M: τὴν μὲν οὖν συνεχῇ, λογικὴν 
εἶναί φαμεν. διαλεγομένων yap ἡμῶν, οὕτως ἡ φωνὴ κινεῖται κατὰ τόπον, ὥστε μηδαμοῦ 
δοκεῖν ἵστασθαι. κατά γε τὴν ἑτέραν, ἣν ὀνομάζομεν διαστηματικῆν, ἐναντίως πέφυκε 
γίγνεσθαι. ἀλλὰ γὰρ ἵστασθαί τε δοκεῖ, καὶ πάντες τὸν τοῦτο φαινόμενον ποιεῖν 
οὐκέτι λέγειν φασίν, ἀλλ᾽ ἀδειν' διόπερ ἐν τῷ διαλέγεσθαι φεύγομεν τὸ ἑστάναι 
(ἱστάναι libb.) τὴν φωνήν, ἂν μὴ διὰ πάθος ποτὲ εἰς τοιαύτην κίνησιν ἀναγκασθῶμεν 
ἐλθεῖν: ἐν δὲ τῷ μελῳδεῖν τοὐναντίον ποιοῦμεν. τὸ μὲν γὰρ συνεχὲς φεύγομεν, τὸ δὲ 
ἑστάναι τὴν φωνὴν ὡς μάλιστα διώκομεν " bow γὰρ μᾶλλον ἑκάστην τῶν φωνῶν μίαν 
τε καὶ ἑστηκυῖαν καὶ τὴν αὐτὴν ποιήσομεν, τοσούτῳ φαίνεται τῇ αἰσθήσει τὸ μέλος ἀκρι- 
βέστερον. ὅτι μὲν δύο κινήσεων οὐσῶν κατὰ τόπον τῆς φωνῆς, ἡ μὲν συνεχὴς λογική τίς 
ἐστιν, ἡ δὲ διαστηματικὴ μελῳδική, σχεδὸν δῆλον ἐκ τῶν εἰρημένων. 


ACCENT AND ACCENTUAL ARSIS AND THESTS. 63 


It is not therefore surprising to find that the various systems of 
denoting accents by written signs agree in this, that they ignore 
certain kinds of glides and speak of acute or grave or middle 
tones, without further indication of their nature. It is clear that 
the purpose of this apparent defect in the notations, is only to 
simplify the theory. Even upon syllables of the shortest duration 
there can have been no perceptible fixity of intonation, such as is 
heard in singing. Aristoxenus and other writers recognize this 
point. The moment a tendency towards fixed intonations can be 
detected, the conversational manner ceases and singing begins. 
Continuous motion is abandoned for the intervallar. But, inas- 
much as the nature of a glide—its direction and extent—becomes 
more difficult to analyze in proportion as its duration is short, 
nothing essential is lost by marking short syllables or short 
vowels with only a general indication of the region of pitch in 
which they exist. 

But in the system of accentuation which ultimately prevailed, 
acute accents are found not only on short but also on long vowels, 
and it cannot be claimed that the glides on such long vowels were 
imperceptible or unimportant. In this case it would seem that 
the accent denotes an upward glide.’ The downward glide 
retained a special mark of its own, the circumflex accent. 

At one time it would seem that all syllables were marked with 
accents, but in course of time only those syllables in general 
which contained an acute element were so marked. This acute 
element was denoted either by the acute or by the circumflex 
accent sign. Every word, not enclitic nor proclitic, bore one such 
point of acuteness and one only. This doctrine is found in both 
Greek and Latin theory.’ 


1Brugmann, Griech. Gram.* in Miiller’s Handbuch, 4144, p. 151. 

*Dionysius Hal., de comp. verd., xi: ταῖς δὲ πολυσυλλάβοις, οἷαί ποτ᾽ av 
ὦσιν, ἡ τὸν ὀξὺν τόνον ἔχουσα μία ἐν πολλαῖς βαρείαις ἔνεστιν. 

Cicero, ov., XVIII, 58: Ipsa enim natura quasi modularetur hominum 
orationem in omni verbo posuit acutam vocem nec una plus neca postrema 
syllaba ultra tertiam. 

Quintilian, zzs¢. 97... I, 5, 30: namque in omni voce acuta intra numerum 
trium syllabarum continetur, sive eae sunt in verbo solae sive ultimae et in 
iis aut proxima extremae aut ab ea tertia. trium porro de quibus loquor, 
media Jonga aut acuta aut flexa erit, eodem Joco brevis utique gravem 
habebit sonum ideoque positam ante se id est ab ultima tertiam acuet. est 
autem in omni voce utique acuta, sed numquam plus una nec umquam 


64 C. W. 1. JOHNSON. 


Thus the melodic outline of a Greek sentence, and of a Latin 
sentence also, if the accentus of the grammarians was really the 
same as the Greek προσῳδία, comprised a succession of summits 
corresponding to the accented syllables of the more important 
words. There was a periodic fluctuation in the tone from regions 
of low pitch to summits of high pitch. There was a rhythmical 
rise and fall, running through the sentence. 


In music proper the upward and downward movements, in 
which melody largely consists, received considerable attention, to 
judge from the somewhat complicated terminology which we find 
in the musical treatises. The usual words employed were ἐπίτασις 
and ἄνεσις. 

Bacchius, zztvod., §19, p. 6 M, p. 297 KvJ : Μέλος δὲ τί ἐστιν ; 
—"Aveats καὶ ἐπίτασις δι ἐμμελῶν φθόγγων γινομένη. 

]όϊα., §45, p. 12 Μ, p. 202 KvJ: Πάθη δὲ τῆς μελῳδίας πόσα 
λέγομεν εἶναι ;---δ΄.--- Τίνα ταῦτα ;—Aveow, ἐπίτασιν, μονήν, στάσιν. 

"Aveots τί ἐστι ;---Κίνησις μελῶν ἀπὸ τοῦ ὀξυτέρου φθόγγου ἐπὶ τὸ 
βαρύτερον. 

᾿Επίτασις δὲ τί ἐστιν ;— Ἐπίτασίς ἐστι κίνησις μελῶν ἀπὸ τοῦ βαρυτέρου 
φθόγγου ἐπὶ τὸ ὀξύτερον. 

Μονὴ δὲ τί ἐστιν; ---Ὅταν ἐπὶ τοῦ αὐτοῦ φθόγγου πλείονες λέξεις 
μελῳδῶνται. 

Στάσις δὲ τί ἐστι ;---Στάσις ἐστὶν ὕπαρξις ἐμμελοῦς φθόγγου. 

Gaudentius, Ζη2γοά., 1, p. 3 Μ, p. 228 KvJ: ἡ δὲ τῆς φωνῆς 
κίνησις ἐκ βαρυτέρου μὲν εἰς ὀξύτερον ἰούσης τόπον ἐπίτασις, ἀνάπαλιν 
δὲ ἄνεσις καλεῖταί τε καὶ ἔστιν. 

Aristides Quintilianus, de musica, 1, v, p. 8 Μ, p. 5, 28 J: 


, 1 ΓΑ oP , , Vine tay d i. oy] ‘ > > Cole 
ταυτὴς δὲ εἴδη δύο, ανεσις ΤΕ Kal επιτασις ἄνεσις μὲν ουν εστιν ἡνίκα 


ultima, ideoque in disyllabis prior; praeterea numquam in eadem flexa et 
acuta, quia in omni flexa est acuta. itaque neutra cludet vocem latinam. 
ea vero quae sunt syllabae unius, erunt acuta aut flexa, ne sit aliqua vox 
sine acuta. 

Servius, comm. in Don., Ὁ. 426,15 K: unus autem sermo unum accipit 
accentum vel acutum vel circumflexum, utrumque autem simul habere non 
potest, 

Martianus Capella, III, p. 65, 22 Eyss.: omnis igitur vox latina simplex 
sive composita habet unum sonum aut acutum aut circumflexum. duos 
autem acutos aut inflexos habere numquam potest, gravis vero saepe. 

1Tt is not clear from the text to what ταύτης refers. It cannot refer to 
τάσις of the preceding line. Perhaps it goes with τῆς κατὰ τὴν φωνὴν κινήσεως 
four lines above. 


ACCENT AND ACCENTUAL ARSIS AND THESIS. 65 


ἂν ἀπὸ ὀξυτέρου τόπου eis βαρύτερον ἡ φωνὴ χωρῇ, ἐπίτασις δ᾽ ὅταν ἐκ 
βαρυτέρου μεταβαίνῃ πρὸς ὀξύτερον. 

Plethon, Wotices οἱ Extraits etc., XVI, 2, p. 234: φωνῆς 
ἄνεσις [ἐστὶν ἡ} ἐπὶ τὸ βαρύτερον μεταβολή, ἐπίτασις δὲ ἡ ἐπὶ τὸ 
ὀξύτερον, στάσις δὲ ἡ ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ ὅσαγε κατὰ τὴν βαρύτητα ἢ ὀξύτητα τῆς 
φωνῆς μονή. 

But a more complete analysis of the melodic movements is 
found in a number of treatises. According to Aristides Quintil- 
ianus μελοποιία has three forms, ἀγωγή, πεττεία, and πλοκή. The 
first of these is not defined, but it is divided into three varieties, 
which are named and described. ᾿Αγωγὴ εὐθεῖα is an ascent by 
consecutive notes, ἀγωγὴ ἀνακάμπτουσα a descent of the same sort, 
while ἀγωγὴ περιφερής is a kind of combination of the first two, 
either ascending by the conjunct notes and descending by the 
disjunct notes, or vice versa. 

Arist. Quin., de mzs., I, xii. p. 29 M, p. 19 J: ἀγωγῆς μὲν οὖν 
εἴδη τρία, εὐθεῖα, ἀνακάμπτουσα, περιφερής εὐθεῖα μὲν οὖν ἐστιν ἡ 
διὰ τῶν ἑξῆς φθόγγων τὴν ἐπίτασιν ποιουμένη, ἀνακάμπτουσα δὲ ἡ διὰ 
τῶν ἑπομένων ἀποτελοῦσα τὴν βαρύτητα, περιφερὴς δὲ ἡ κατὰ συνημμένων 
μὲν ἐπιτείνουσα, κατὰ διεζευγμένων δ᾽ ἀνιεῖσα, ἢ ἐναντίως " αὕτη δὲ κἀν 
ταῖς μεταβολαῖς θεωρεῖται. 

Bryennius, p. 502 Wallis, has the same analysis of ἀγωγή into 
εὐθεῖα, ἀνακάμπτουσα, and περιφερής, but I have not access to a text 
of his treatise. The doctrine seems to go back to Aristoxenus, 
for we have a corrupt passage giving a similar definition. 

Aristox., (Maryam. efen2:, 1; §70..f, ἴον 30) M;) ps 28). Wi: 
᾿Αγωγὴ δ᾽ ἔστω ἡ διὰ τῶν ἑξῆς φθόγγων ἔξωθεν τῶν ἀρχῶν ὧν ἐν 
ἑκατέρωθεν ἀσύνθετον κεῖται διάστημα . .. εὐθεῖα δ᾽ ἡ ἐπὶ τὸ αὐτὸ. .. 

The same definition of ἀγωγή appears in 

Cleonides (Pseudo-Euclid), zztrod., p. 22 M, p. 207 KvJ: 
δι᾿’ ὧν δὲ μελοποιία ἐπιτελεῖται δ΄ ἐστιν᾽ ἀγωγή, πλοκή, πεττεία, τονή. 
ἀγωγὴ μὲν οὖν ἐστιν ἡ διὰ τῶν ἑξῆς φθόγγων ὁδὸς τοῦ μέλους. 

᾿Αγωγή is thus an ἐπίτασις or ἄνεσις Of consecutive notes in the 
scale. 

A different set of terms, outlining a slightly different conception, 
is found in the anonymous treatise edited by Bellermann, Berlin, 
1841, and by A. J. H. Vincent, Wotices et Extraits des Manu- 
scrits de la Bibliothéque du Roz, Paris, XVI (1847) pt. 2, p. 5 ff. 

Anonymus, de musica, §16, p. 52 ff. (Bell. p. 19, nos. 2 ff 
and 84 ff.): πρόσληψίς ἐστιν ἐκ τοῦ βαρυτέρου φθόγγου ἐπὶ τὸν 

5 


66 C. W. 1. JOHNSON. 


ὀξύτερον κατὰ μέλος ἐπίτασις ἤτοι ἀνάδοσις, ἣν τινες καλοῦσιν ὑφὲν 
ἔσωθεν. τοῦτο δὲ γίνεται ποικίλως, ἀμέσως τε καὶ διαμέσου᾽ ἀμέσως μὲν 
ἐκ τοῦ ἐγγὺς φθόγγου, οἷον. ET, TL, LF, FG, GU, ON, I<. 
ἐμμέσως δὲ οἷον διὰ τριῶν F PO, διὰ τεσσάρων FU, διὰ πέντε Bes 

ἔκληψις δὲ τὰ ὑπεναντία τούτοις, ἀπὸ τῶν » ὀξυτέρων ἐπὶ τὰ βαρέα 
ἄνεσις, ἣν τινες ὀνομάζουσι ὑφὲν ἔξωθεν, οἷον ἀμέσως μὲν GF, ἐμμέσως 
δὲ διὰ τριῶν OF, διὰ τεσσάρων TIF, διὰ πέντε <F. ἐπ 

mpdoKpovats μέν ἐστιν ἐν xpsvors δύο ἑνός, τοῦτ᾽ ἔστιν ἐλάττονος, 
χρόνου δύο μέλη, τοῦτ᾽ ἔστι δύο φθόγγοι, ἀπὸ τῶν βαρέων ἐπὶ τὰ ὀξέα, 
οἷον ἀμέσως μὲν ἐκ τοῦ ἐγγὺς φθόγγου FG, ἐμμέσως δὲ διὰ τριῶν FO, διὰ 
τεσσάρων FI, διὰ πέντε F<. 

ἔκκρουσις δὲ ὑπεναντία τούτοις, ἄνεσις ἀπὸ τῶν ὀξέων ἐπὶ τὰ βαρέα, οἷον 
ἀμέσως μὲν GF, ἐμμέσως δὲ διὰ τριῶν OF, διὰ τεσσάρων TIF, διὰ πέντε 
<F. 

In this scheme we may notice first that the preposition προσ- in 
πρόσληψις and πρόσκρουσις evidently signifies a rise in pitch, and 
ἐκ- in ἔκληψις and ἔκκρουσις a fall. Next in regard to the couple 
πρόσκρουσις and ἔκκρουσις, aS is pointed out by Vincent, the expres- 
sion ἐν χρόνοις δύο shows that the rise or fall in question involved 
two zofes, that is, that the movement is effected by a leap (is 
intervallar). The other couple, πρόσληψις and ἔκληψις, are therefore 
presumably glides, effected portamento-wise. This view of the 
matter is supported by the use of the term ὑφέν and by the fact that 
the musical notes’ in the examples are the same for πρόσληψις and 
ἔκληψις as for πρόσκρουσις and ἔκκρουσις, except that the hyphen 
mark is written under the former. Lastly in regard to the 
subdivision of each of the four kinds of motion into species, of 
which one takes place ‘immediately’ and the other ‘ mediately,’ 
since the former is in all cases described as occurring only from 
one note to a neighboring note in the scale, and the latter always 
between two notes not adjacent, but at an interval of a third, 
fourth, or fifth, we may rest satisfied to believe that the phrases 
ἀμέσως and ἐμμέσως (Or διαμέσου) refer simply to the absence or 
presence of intervening notes in the scale. 

In §14 of the same treatise as edited by Vincent (Bell., p. 84, 
no. 80, and p. 85, no. 81) tables are given with the Greek and 
corresponding modern notation of the four motions, πρόσληψις and 
ἔκληψις, πρόσκρουσις and ἔκκρουσις. 


1The notes as printed above are only typographical make-shifts. 


ACCENT AND ACCENTUAL ARSIS AND THESIS. 67 


At the beginning of the section we find still another terminology. 
Anonymus, de musica, §14, p. 43 (Bell., p. 82, no. 78): 
ἀγωγὴ προσεχὴς ἀπὸ τῶν βαρυτέρων 606s, ἣ κίνησις φθόγγων ἐκ βαρυτέρου 
τόπου ἐπὶ ὀξύτερον" ἀνάκλασις [MSS ἀνάλυσις, Vincent ἀνάκλησις] 

δὲ τοὐναντίον. 
Here the ascending motion is called simply ἀγωγή (or is ἀγωγὴ 
προσεχής to be translated ‘‘ ἀγωγή proper” ?) and the descending 

ἀνάκλασις.ἦ 

Finally the fragments of Plethon published by Vincent 
(Notices et Extratts etc., XVI, 2, p. 234 ff), entitled Κεφάλαι᾽ ἄττα 
λόγων μουσικῶν, contain the following (p. 236): 

"Apow μὲν εἶναι ὀξυτέρου φθόγγου ἐκ βαρυτέρου μετάληψιν, θέσιν δὲ 
τοὐναντίον βαρυτέρου ἐξ ὀξυτέρου. 
In this passage the words ἄρσις and θέσις occur with a musical 
signification, but it is the only passage of which I know. 

Now without attempting to reconcile any inconsistencies there 
may be in these passages, we may at least conclude that the sub- 
ject of the movement of the ‘ voice’ (‘ human and instrumental ’) 
received a complicated theoretical treatment at the hands of 
musicians. What practical gain was aimed at we can hardly 
guess. To us the very naming of the various species of motion 
seems superfluous. But the fact remains that the ancients treated 
the matter in this way. We are thus brought to the point where 
we cannot reasonably refuse to admit the possibility that if the 
phenomenon of a rise and fall of pitch in music had a terminology, 
the similar rise and fall in conversational speech may have had a 
similar terminology. In fact the line between speech and song 
could not be drawn with any degree of sharpness in ancient 
theory. The very fact of a formal separation of these two kinds 
of utterance according to the character of the vocal motion points 
to the existence of a manner of speaking resembling singing, and 
a manner of singing resembling speaking. The κίνησις μέση of 
Aristides Quintilianus, partaking of the nature of both κώησις 
συνεχής and κίνησις διαστηματική, forces us to admit that. 

Accentuation thus assumes a place in ancient theory under the 
general heading of the Movement of the Voice. The rise and 


1The MSS have ἀνάλυσις, which can hardly be right. Vincent adopts 
ἀνάκλησις, following the Hagiopolite MS, but ἀνάκλασις, which Vincent men- 
tions as possible (p. 195 n.), seems most likely, as it suits the other name 
for the same motion, ἀγωγὴ ἀνακάμπτουσα. 


68 C. W. L. JOHNSON. 


fall of the tone in musical melody was paralleled by the rise and 
fall in conversational melody. 


Scattered here and there through the writings of the Latin 
grammarians are a number of passages in which I believe we can 
see traces of doctrinal matter regarding this melodic rise and fall. 
Inasmuch as these passages have often been cited in support of 
one or another theory in regard to the basis of ancient versifica- 
tion, a great deal of confusion would be removed if it could be 
shown that the passages, or, rather, their sources, really con- 
cerned the melodic or pitch accent of the Latin language of the 
classical period and not its versification at all, except in so far as 
pitch accent must needs affect versification indirectly, as it does 
all artistic utterance. The point at which the misunderstanding 
would arise would be in the use of the words arszs and thesis 
or their equivalents. That these words once had a melodic or 
accentual signification as well as the more usual rhythmical or 
metrical one is certain.’ But when the accents lost their melodic 
character, the two uses might easily become confused. That this 
is what happened is the explanation suggested to account for the 
passages in question. 

Sergius, after defining ¢ezor or accentus* and explaining that 


1 This fact is sometimes lost sight of, but Weil and Benloew touch upon 
the matter in a note at p.98 of their 7heorze générale de l’accentuation latine 
(Paris, 1855),and John Foster in his Zssay on the Different Nature of Accent 
and Quantity . . . in the English, Latin, and Greek Languages (Eton, 1763) 
devotes a postscript to chap. viii to “The Different “Apovc of Accent and 
and of Metre.’’ In this work at p. 146 n.a passage from J. C. Scaliger 
(1484-1558), De Causis Linguae Latinae, is quoted, in which the accentual 
meaning of ἄρσις is given in the words: Syllabae igitur modus, quo tollitur 
in ea vox acutior, dictus a Graecis ἄρσις, recte sane, in alteram autem 
subeuntem cum demittitur vox, θέσιν appellarunt, minus commode :—quae 
melius κατάθεσις dicta fuisset.—vel aeguabilitatem vocis potius appellassent. 
unde etiam in musicis ὁμοτενεῖς quidam dicuntur tractus, in quibus ἄρσις est 
nulla. 

2?Cf. Donat., p. 371 K: tonos alii accentus, alii tenores nominant. Pris- 
cian, IJ, 12, p. 51, 21 K: accidit unicuique syllabae tenor, spiritus, tempus, 
numerus literarum. tenor acutus vel gravis vel circumflexus. in dictione 
tenor certus, absque ea incertus, non potest tamen sine eoesse. Diomedes, 
P- 431, 3 K: accentus quidam fastigia vocaverunt, quod capitibus litterarum 
imponerentur; alii tenores vel sonos appellant ; nonnulli cacumina retinere 
maluerunt. Idem, p. 456,18 Καὶ : tenor quem Graeci dicunt tasin aut proso- 


ACCENT AND ACCENTUAL ARSIS AND THESIS. 69 


the term accentus is sometimes carelessly used to include the 
long and short marks, the hyphen, diastole, and apostrophus, 
says (p. 482, 14 K): 
his ita se habentibus sciendum est quod acutus et gravis et 
circumflexus soli sunt qui, ut superius diximus, naturalem 
unius cuiusque sermonis in voce nostra elationis servent 
tenorem. nam ipsi arsin thesinque moderantur, quamquam 
sciendum est quod in usu non sit hodierno gravis accentus. 
Then follow rules for the accentuation of dissyllables, poly- 
syllables, and monosyllables with acute and circumflex accents. 
In this passage versification is not under discussion at all. 
Although the names of various feet are used, it is only in order to 
describe various quantitative combinations, for which versification 
afforded a convenient terminology ready made. The terms avszs 
and ¢heszs cannot refer to the arsis and thesis of rhythm, unless 
one goes so far as to claim that it is here a question of accentual 
versification, in which a stressed accent has usurped the réle 
played in classical verse by quantity. Commodianus is supposed 
to have already written accentual poetry, but there is little prob- 
ability that such a system of versification would find recognition 
in what purports to be a commentary on classical usage. 
Pseudo-Priscian defines accent as follows (p. 519, 25 K): 
accentus namque est certa lex ad elevandam et deprimen- 
dam syllabam uniuscuiusque particulae orationis, qui fit ad 
similitudinem elementorum, litterarum syllabarumque, qui 
etiam tripertito dividitur, acuto gravi circumflexo. acutus 
namque accentus ideo inventus est, quod acuat sive elevet 
syll2bam; gravis vero eo, quod deprimat aut deponat; cir- 
cumflexus ideo, quod deprimat et acuat. 
Then after touching upon the “spurious” accents, the restriction 
of the Latin accent to two syllables, and certain exceptions to the 
Latin rule of accentuation, he gives the rules for accenting mono- 
syllabic, dissyllabic, and trisyllabic words under all conditions of 
difference in vowel quantity... Examples are given for every 
variety of quantitative aspect up to three syllables. Then he 


says (p. 521, 24 K): 


dian, in flexibus vocis servandus est; nam quaedam acuto tenore, pleraque 
gravi, alia flexo desiderant enuntiari. Cledonius, p, 32, 5 K: tria habet 
cognomenta accentus ; aut toni sunt aut tenores aut accentus ; toni a sono 
accentus ab accinendo (Keil, acuendo), tenores ab intentione. 

1So Diomedes, p. 430 K. 





70 CW. L. JOHNSON. 


ad hanc autem rem arsis et thesis sunt necessariae. namque 
in unaquaque parte orationis arsis et thesis sunt, non in 
ordine syllabarum sed in pronuntiatione: velut in hac parte 
natura quando dico natu, elevatur vox et est arsis intus, 
quando vero sequitur 7a, vox deponitur et est thesis deforis. 
quantum autem suspenditur vox per arsin, tantum deprimitur 
per thesin. sed ipsa vox quae per dictiones formatur, donec 
accentus perficiatur, in arsin deputatur; quae autem post 
accentum sequitur, in thesin. 

Here also there can hardly be any reference to versification. 
The extent of the arsis is determined by a property of the indi- 
vidual word, the accentus, the rest of the pars orationis is thesis. 
The ratio of 4:1 between rhythmical arsis and thesis is unheard of. 
The fact that the words zztus and deforis correspond in their use 
to the terms ὑφὲν ἔσωθεν and ὑφὲν ἔξωθεν in the Anonymus passage, 
de musica, §16, p. 52 ff., quoted above (p. 65 f.), is also to be 
remarked. 

In the following passage I suspect that the second sentence is 
parenthetical, and that ¢emporis of the manuscripts should be 
emended to Zenoris. 

Marius Victorinus, p. 40, 14 K: arsis igitur et thesis quas 
Graeci dicunt, id est sublatio et positio, significant motum 
pedis. est enim arsis sublatio pedis sine sono, thesis positio 
cum sono.’ item arsis est elatio temporis (? tenoris) soni, 
vocis, thesis depositio et quaedam contractio syllabarum. 

The writer then returns to the consideration of meter and shows 
how the various kinds of feet are to be divided into arsis and 
thesis, the arsis according to this doctrine invariably preceding 
the thesis.” But in the sentence beginning, ztem arsts, he merely 
adds incidentally, as it were, a non-metrical definition of the terms 
arsis and thests. 

The analysis of feet containing an uneven number of syllables 
into the constituent parts, arsis and thesis, seems to have called 
for rules. We are informed in certain passages that the proper 
division into arsis and thesis can be ascertained /vom the accent. 


1Cf. Arist. Quin., de mus., I, xiii, p. 31 M, p. 21 J: ῥυθμὸς τοίνυν ἐστὶ 
σύστημα EK χρόνων κατά τινα τάξιν συγκειμένων, καὶ τὰ τούτων πάθη καλοῦμεν ἄρσιν Kai 
θέσιν, ψόφον καὶ ἠρεμίαν. 

2In regard to the trochee, p. 40, 14 K, it is clearly necessary to read 
tollitur for ponitur, and ponitur for tollitur, in view of p. 45, 2 K. 


ACCENT AND ACCENTUAL ARSIS AND THESIS. 71 


These passages are full of difficulties, which will perhaps never 
be cleared up, in view of the probability that the writers them- 
selves did not understand what they wrote. In the last two of 
the following four passages in particular it seems impossible to 
reconcile the inconsistencies. 
Terentianus Maurus, de metris, v. 1427 ff., p. 368 Καὶ: 
pes adest supremus unus octo de trisyllabis, 
ἀμφίμακρος : hunc priori (scil. ἀμφιβράχει) perspicis con- 
trarium: 

nam duae longae receptam continent intus brevem, 

Romulos si nominemus, Apulos aut Doricos. 

sescuplo metimur istum: quinque nam sunt tempora: 

nunc duo ante tria sequuntur: nunc tribus reddes duo, 

Italum si quando mutat Graius accentus sonum. 

Apulos nam quando dico, tunc in arsi sunt duo: 

Σωκράτην Graius loquendo reddet in thesi duo. 

creticum appellant eundem, forte Curetum genus 

quo modos ludo sub armis congruentes succinat. 

primus iste pes locatur his ubique in versibus, 

optimus pes et melodis et pedestri gloria. 


Servius, 222 Donatum, p. 425, 7 K: arsis dicitur elevatio, 
thesis positio. quotienscumque contingit ut tres sunt syllabae 
in pede vel quinque, quoniam non licet in divisione temporum 
syllabam scindi, sed aut principio adplicatur aut fini, idcirco 
debemus considerare, media syllaba cui parti coniungi debeat, 
et hoc ex accentu colligimus. nam si in prima syllaba fuerit 
accentus, arsis duas syllabas possidebit; si autem in media 
syliaba, thesi duas syllabas damus. 

Julianus, p. 321, 11 K: Quae accidunt unicuique pedi? 
Arsis et thesis, numerus syllabarum, tempus, resolutio, figura, 
metrum. Quid est arsis? Elevatio, id est inchoatio partis. 
Quid est thesis? Positio, id est finis partis. Quo modo? 
Puta si dicam prudens, illud pru elevatio est, illud dens 
positio. In trisyllabis et tetrasyllabis pedibus quot syllabas 
sibi vindicat arsis et quot thesis? In trisyllabis, si in prima 
habuerit accentum, ut puta dominus, duas syllabas vindicat 
arsis et unam thesis. Nam si penultimo loco habuerit 
accentum, ut puta deafus, arsis vindicat unam syllabam et 
thesis duas. Sic et tempora secundum quantitatem sylla- 
barum sibi vindicat. 


72 C. W. L. JOHNSON. 


Pompeius, comm., p. 120, 29 K: arsis et thesis dicitur 
elevatio et positio. ut si dicam ego, 6 arsis est, go thesis est. 
cui rei proficiat arsis et thesis, paulo post dicemus. interim 
arsis et thesis dicitur elevatio et positio. ut puta Roma; 
Roma prima syllaba arsin habet, secunda syllaba thesin. 
quid si quattuor syllabarum fuerit? duae erunt in arsi et 
duae in thesi. quidsi octo? quattuor habet arsis et quattuor 
thesis. quid si tres sunt, idest, quid si impar numerus? si 
impar numerus fuerit, quotiens media syllaba accentum habet, 
arsis habebit unum tempus et thesis duo; quotiens prior 
syllaba habuerit accentum, arsis habebit duo tempora et 
thesis unum. ut puta Camz//us quando dicimus, ecce media 
syllaba accentum habet: dicimus in arsi unum et in thesi duo. 
Romulus quando dicimus, prima syllaba habet accentum: 
dicimus duo in arsi, unum inthesi. ergo in istis, ubi non sunt 
aequales syllabae, quando debeat arsis duo habere tempora, 
unum thesis, vel quando unum arsis et duo thesis, ex accentu 
colligis. nam si media syllaba accentum habuerit, ultimae 
syllabae iungis plura tempora, ut arsis habeat unum, thesis 
duo; si prior syllaba habuerit accentum, arsi iunges plura 
tempora. 

The most important point to determine in these passages is 
whether they are really concerned with versification or not. All 
profess to be. But it is difficult, if not impossible, to reconcile the 
statements made with the accepted doctrine in regard to the laws 
of ancient verse. In the first place integral words are given as 
examples of what are supposably the feet of verse, and conclusions 
as to the internal constitution of the feet are drawn from the pro- 
nunciation of the words. In the next place it is not clear how 
the accentuation can determine rhythmical arsis and thesis, unless 
the accent be a stress or intensity accent, and either the arsis or 
the thesis be of the same nature, or at least contain an intensity 
element. But even so further difficulties remain. Terentianus 
clearly brings quantity into consideration. His doctrine would 
seem to be that in words, or, as he calls them, feet, containing five 
morae, of the form —v—, the division is 2:3 in Latin words, 
because the accent falls (by rule) on the antepenult (as 4-fz/os), 
but is 3: 2 when a Greek word with the accent on the short 
penult (as Σωκρά-την) is involved. Feet of the forms ——v 
(Baxxeios) and v — — (ἀντίβακχος) have been already disposed of 


ACCENT AND ACCENTUAL ARSIS AND THESIS. 73 


before the passage quoted. The ratio between arsis and thesis is 
stated to be sescuple, but the self-evident division is not specifically 
made for each foot. In regard to the amphibrach our author 
says that the ratio is necessarily 3: 1, but that we are at liberty 
to give the arsis one time and the thesis three, or the arsis three 
and the thesis one. Since this ratio is not one of the three 
rhythmical ratios, this foot is rejected by the “ musici.”’’ 

If the Servius passage conveys the same doctrine, we must 
consider that here also only the form —v— is in question, for 
the division into rhythmical arsis and thesis of the forms ——v 
and v—— is self-evident. This involves emending the ve/ 
guingue of the manuscripts to ef guingue tempora, and duas 
syllabas (in each case) to duo tempora. But if the rule is of late 
origin, and not a precept handed down from early times, another 
explanation is possible. We know that the feeling for quantity 
was no longer alive in the time of Servius.” The passage may 
then be regarded simply as giving a practical rule for a partial 
determination of the (extinct) quantities in trisyllabic feet (words) 
through an observation of the position of the accent (now, of 
course, an intensity accent). When the first syllable is accented, 
the second or middle must be short, and so, he says, the arsis (or 
first part of a foot) includes two syllables (according to the text, 
but, as remarked, Terentianus’ rule calls for one only), and the 
thesis one; but when the middle syllable is accented, it must be 
long, and then, he says, the arsis has one syllable and the thesis 
two. It is not stated which of the eight trisyllabic feet, συ, 


SS SS a a ee 6 covered 


by this-rule, but some restriction is clearly necessary. The rule 
does not give satisfactory results on any rhythmical basis. For 
example we cannot suppose the form v—— to be divided into a 
rhythmical arsis of one mora and a thesis of four morae. 


In regard to the Julianus and Pompeius passages the supposi- 


lexigunt idcirco talem qui sequuntur musicam (v. 1426). I had at first 
taken exigunt in the sense of ‘ demand,’ but the interpretation given above, 
which I owe to Prof. C. W. E. Miller, must be right. 

2Servius,ad Piguilinum de finalibus, p. 1803, Putsche : nam quod pertinet 
ad naturam primae syllabae, longane sit aut brevis, solis confirmamus 
exemplis ; medias vero in Jatino sermone accentu discernimus; ultimas 
arte colligimus. (6. Paris, Etude sur le réle de Paccent latin dans la langue 
fran¢aise, p. 30, N. 2.) 


74 C. W. L. JOHNSON. 


tion that only feet containing five morae are under consideration 
is precluded by the examples. Yet it is strange if the analysis 
into arsis and thesis of feet like dactyls and anapaests was regarded 
as difficult to effect without the aid of the verbal accent. It is 
quite possible, however, that the examples need emending. 
Furthermore to follow the directions literally, we are led to the 
curious result that the accent sometimes falls on the arsis (as 
démi-nus), and sometimes on the thesis (as de-d/us). Nor are we 
at liberty to shift the position of arsis and thesis, for Julianus 
expressly announces the doctrine, a very common one, that the 
arsis invariably precedes the thesis in any foot, and Pompeius 
would imply as much in his first examples, ego and Roma. 
Another difficulty in the way of accepting these passages as 
dealing purely with the meter of versification lies in the examples 
beatus and Camillus, which are amphibrach in form. Pompeius 
himself says later, p. 125, 4 K, of the amphibrach: nulla divisio 
est. As in the Servius passage results contrary to all rhythmical 
theory are reached. 

We are thus led to the conclusion that the arsis and thesis 
which according to the grammarians can be determined by the 
verbal accent are not the arsis and thesis of versification. What- 
ever may be the true conception of the latter, they are certainly 
not affections of individual words. The arsis and thesis of verse 
are complementary parts of a foot. But the arsis and thesis under 
discussion have no apparent relationship with true feet. The 
accent is a concern of the word, not of the foot. When the 
grammarians employ integral words as examples to illustrate the 
various kinds of feet found in verse, we overlook the fault in the 
method. But when we are asked to believe that the accents of 
these words played any réle in verse, where it can only occa- 
sionally have happened that the words were coterminous with 
feet, we must decline to follow our preceptors. 

The attitude of the ancient theorists in all this matter is of 
prime importance. The science of metric covered more than the 
subject of versification only; it included also the artistic disposi- 
tion of long and short syllables in prose composition. Consider 
the doctrine of Dionysius of Halicarnassus. Hestates that ῥυθμός 
is necessary in artistic prose as well as in poetry.’ Prose ought 


1 Dionysius of Halicarnassus, de comp. verb., xi: ἐξ ὧν δὲ οἵομαι γενήσεσθαι 
λέξιν ἡδεῖαν καὶ καλήν, τέτταρά ἐστι τὰ κυριώτατα. Kai κράτιστα, μέλος 


ACCENT AND ACCENTUAL ARSIS AND THESIS. 75 


to be εὔρυθμος, however, and not éppuOpos,' evperpos and not éuperpos. 
It ought to contain feet or meters (ῥυθμοί, μέτρα), but they should 
not be prominent.” If therefore the same terminology was used 
for various combinations of quantities in prose diction as was in 
use for poetic diction, nothing could be more natural; but the 
practice does not necessarily imply that the same phenomenon 
was under discussion. Indeed Dionysius fully recognizes the 
difference. Both the éuperpos λέξις οἱ poetry and song and the 
ἄμέτρος λέξις Of prose include what are called “ feet” for want of 
distinguishing names.’ But whereas poetry cannot employ cer- 
tain feet, prose rejects none.* There is no real rhythm in prose, 
but only a quasi-rhythm, no real feet, but only quasi-feet. The 
indiscriminate mingling of heterogeneous feet is not forbidden. 
The feet of prose diction are then a fact in ancient theory, but 
of rhythmical arsis and thesis properly speaking they can have 
had no trace. Therefore when we read in the Latin grammarians 
of an arsis and thesis found in feet which are identical in every- 
thing with individual words, we must look for some other definition 
for such a use of these terms than the usual one. Just what 
meaning the grammarians themselves attached to the terms may 
not now be discoverable. Perhaps to them the arsis was nothing 
more than the first part of a foot and the thesis the last, and so 
when a word filled the form of a foot, the first part of the word 
was the arsis and the last part the thesis. But if there was in 
earlier doctrine a verbal arsis and thesis of an accentual character, 
it is easy to see how, when the accents became converted into 
stresses, the principles regulating the one phenomenon might be 


καὶ ῥυθμὸς καὶ μεταβολὴ καὶ τὸ παρακολουθοῦν τοῖς τρισὶ τούτοις πρέπον . . 
ὧν μὲν οὖν στοχάζονται πάντες οἱ σπουδῇ γράφοντες μέτρον, ἢ μέλος, ἢ τὴν λεγυμέ- 
νην πεζὴν λέξιν, ταῦτ’ ἐστί. 

l7o7d., fin. 

2Jbid., xxv: ὕπερ οὖν ἔφην, ov δύναται ψιλὴ λέξις ὁμοία γενέσθαι TH ἐμμέτρῳ Kai 
ἐμμελεῖ ἐὰν μὴ περιέχῃ μέτρα καὶ ῥυθμούς τινας ἐγκαταμεμιγμένους ἀδήλως. οὐ μέντοι 
προσήκει γ᾽ ἔμμετρον οὐδ᾽ ἔρρυθμον αὐτὴν εἶναι δοκεῖν: ποίημα γὰρ οὕτως ἔσται καὶ 
μέλος, ἐκβήσεταί τε ἁπλῶς τὸν αὑτῆς χαρακτῆρα" ἀλλ᾽ εὔρυθμον αὐτὴν ἀπόχρῃ καὶ 
εὔμετρον φαίνεσθαι μόνον - οὕτω γὰρ ἂν εἴη ποιητικὴ μέν, OV μὴν ποίημά γε" καὶ 
εὐμελὴς μέν, οὐ μέλος δέ. 

8 7ό14., xvii, fin.: οὗτοι δώδεκα ῥυθμοί τε καὶ πόδες εἰσὶν οἱ πρῶτοι καταμετροῦντες 
ἅπασαν ἔμμετρόν τε καὶ ἄμετρον λέξιν, ἐξ ὧν γίνονται στίχο: τε καὶ κῶλα. 

47bid., xviii, init.: οὐδὲ γὰρ ἀπελαύνεται ῥυθμὸς οὐδεὶς ἐκ τῆς ἀμέτρου λέξεως, 
ὥσπερ ἐκ τῆς ἐμμέτρου. 


76 C. W. L. JOHNSON. 


transferred to the other. Thus the feet of prose also would be 
provided with a subdivision into arsis and thesis. The result 
would be a simplification on the surface of the doctrine, but a 


deep-seated confusion in essentials. 
C. W. L. JOHNSON. 


AUGUSTUS PRINCEPS. 


It is a familiar fact that in the political development of the early 
Empire the cautious experiments of Octavianus Caesar all tended 
to preserve, or even restore, the forms and ostensible functions of 
the Republic, with the added device of successive cumulation on 
one person. The term Augustus was not particularly czv7lis' 
(to use a Roman term that did not lose its significance from 
Actium to the era of Trajan). Przuceps, on the other hand, was 
eminently czvz/is. I was led to undertake a survey of the ancient 
tradition and theory on the subject, because I was struck by the 
fact that Mommsen differs not only from the almost unanimous 
opinion of modern students such as Hoeck, Madvig, Peter, Merivale 
and Ranke, but also from Dio, whom he criticizes severely. 

In attempting to analyze the principles by which the second 
Caesar was guided in manipulating public affairs and in con- 
structing the mechanism of the new government, we may safely 
emphasize these points: in the first place, Octavianus wished to 
avoid the political blunders of his adoptive father, and, secondly, his 
aim was to obliterate, as far as possible, the memory of some of his 
own,acts during his triumviral period.’ Julius Caesar indeed had 
truthfully said “nihil esse rem publicam, appellationem modo sine 
corpore ac specie,” but he had underestimated the tenacious life 
of ‘‘ appellationes”’ and of incidental sentiment and association.* 


1 Αὔγουστος ὡς καὶ πλεῖόν τι ἢ Kat’ ἀνθρώπους Ov ἐπεκλήθη, Dio 53, 16, 8.—In 
27 B. C., on January 17, acc. to Censorinus, de die natal. 21, ne was so 
greeted by an acclamation, “‘sententia L. Munatii Planci,’’ who had not 
been a courtier at Alexandria to no purpose. Madvig, Verfassung u. Ver- 
waltung des rém. Staates, I, p. 536, follows Orosius, VI 20, who places 
the event in Jan., 29 B.c. The Greek version Σεβαστός emphasizes the 
extraordinary character of the appellation; cf. the reluctance of Tiberius 
to use this name, Suetonius, Tib. 26. 

*Cf. the apologetic and pseudo-republican strain of the Monumentum 
Ancyranum, as well as the spirit in which Velleius, for example, refers to 
the proscriptions of the second triumvirate. 

Cf. details of his “spernere patrium morem”’ in Suetonius, Iulius 


76-77. 


78 E. G. SIHLER. 


Octavianus determined upon the réle of senatorial mandatary. 
As all the chief acts of the future administration were to be 
covered by senxatus consulta, the ostensible elevation and purifi- 
cation of that august body was indeed a task of the first import- 
ance.! The first dectio occurred in 28 B. 6., when Augustus and 
Agrippa were censors. According to the custom of the ancient 
Republic before the era of Marius and Sulla, an essential part of 
the censorial /ectzo senatus and an important privilege of the 
censors was the designation of a princeps senatus. In this lectio 
Octavianus was so designated. Dio 53, 1 ras ἀπογραφὰς ἐξετέλεσε, 
καὶ ἐν αὐταῖς πρόκριτος τῆς γερουσίας ἐπεκλήθη, ὥσπερ ἐν TH ἀκριβεῖ δημοκρατίᾳ 
ἐνενόμιστο. It was indeed, as Dio urges, a repristination of an 
institution peculiar to the ἀκριβὴς δημοκρατία, by which term 
Dio means the republican era before the rise of the men 
of personal power. For Dio aptly’? summarizes Roman history 
down to 29 B. Cc. as embracing three periods: the kings, the 
republic, the δυναστεῖαι. 

The institution of the prizceps senatus as an incidental part 
of the /ectio senatus, and thus of the census, is discussed by 
Mommsen in his Romische Forschungen, I 92sqq. The literary 
tradition enables him to specify twelve,’ beginning with M. 
Valerius Maximus, dictator of 494 B. c., and concluding with L. 
Valerius Flaccus, consul 100 Β. c. He differs, for example, from 
Merivale,* whom he does not mention, in excluding Lutatius 
Catulus, consul of 78 B.c. This view of Merivale’s is also put 
forward in Pauly, Real-Encyclopadie, IV 1248. Mommsen claims 
that the fact that Catulus was considered princeps senatus is due to 
misunderstanding. Dio 36,14 says: ὅτι ra... πρῶτα τῆς βουλῆς ἦν. 
These words, to be sure, are not very explicit, but Cicero, in 
Pisonem, III 6, says: ‘‘me Ὁ. Catulus princeps huius ordinis... 
parentem patriae nominavit.” Mommsen argues? that this 27772- 
cipatus differed from the formal one of earlier times, and was so 


1Cf. Suetonius, Aug. 35. For the degradation of the Senate by Julius 
Caesar, cf. Dio 43, 47. 

2Dio 52, 1. This summary exhibits the superior clearness of Dio’s 
political vision. Cf. the ‘‘certamina potentium ”’ in Tacitus, Annals, I 2. 

3 He sums up his list as thirteen, but there are only twelve in it. 

4 Merivale, p. 454: ‘the most celebrated of the list was Lutatius Catulus, 
whose position at the head of the senatorial oligarchy has been signalized 
at the beginning of this history.” 

5 Staatsrecht, III 868, note 4. 


AUGUSTUS PRINCEPS. 79 


merely “nach der 6ffentlichen Meinung.” But by the latter 
standard no doubt Pompey, although he was absent at the time 
(63 8. C.) in his Eastern campaigns, was the przzceps. Indeed, it 
seems probable that Lutatius Catulus was the formal prznceps 
senatus. If so, the /ectzo in which he was designated was that of 
70 B. C., which was complete and rigorous,’ sixty-four names 
being stricken from the senatorial register. This census of 70 
B. C. was the last complete and successful one before the census of 
Octavianus Caesar and Agrippa in 28 B. c. The census of 65 
B. C.” was abortive on account of radical political differences 
between the censors, Catulus and Crassus, which led to their 
resignation without having reached either the /ectio senatus or the 
recognitto eguitum. Nor did those chosen in their stead accom- 
plish anything, because, as Dio® says, the tribunz flebis blocked 
their action through fear of losing their seats in the /ectio senatus. 
The latter function stands out as the crucial one in the sphere of 
the censorial zmpferium. 

The princeps senatus enjoyed not so much a political function 
as a civil honor. He had the first place in debate. Regarding 
his tenure of office Zonaras says, 7, 19 προεῖχε τὸν χρόνον ὃν mpoexpivero, 
ov yap διὰ βίου τις εἰς τοῦτο mpoexetpicero. It is true that the 
censors at the next /ectio had the abstract right to change the 
brinceps even by substituting one of their own number, but it 
seems to have been done rarely, if ever. Thus Q. Fabius Max- 
imus was designated as princeps by the censors of 209 and 204: 
he died in 203. P. Scipio Africanus, himself one of the censors, 
became princeps in 199; the censors of 194 and 180 ratified that 
choice®; Valerius himself, przzceps of 184, and one of the censors, 


‘Liv. Epit. 98: Cn. Lentulus et Τ,. Gellius censores asperam censuram 
egerunt, quattuor et sexaginta senatu motis. 

Ch ΒΙΌΣ Crassus, C. 11. 

3Dio 37, 9 ἐμποδισάντων σφᾶς τῶν δημάρχων πρὸς Tov THC βουλῆς κατάλογον δέει 
τοῦ μὴ τῆς γερουσίας αὐτοὺς ἐκπεσεῖν. 

*Cf. Madvig, Verf. I, p. 137; Mommsen, Stsr. III 969 sq.; C. Peter, 
R6ém. Gesch. III, p. 16. 

5 Cf. Livy 34, 44; 38, 28. Livy (39, 52) argues from the continuity of the 
honor against the date of the death of Scipio as claimed by Polybius and 
others, 183 Β. 6. In the /ectio of the census of 184 the official records gave 
the name of L. Valerius, proof positive, according to Livy, that Scipio had 
died before that census: quo vivo nisi ut ille senatu moveretur, quam 
notam nemo memoriae prodidit, alius princeps in locum eius lectus non 
esset. 


80 E. G. SIHLER. 


died before the censors of 179 came in. M. Aemilius Lepidus, 
himself censor in that year (179), became the next Avinceps, and 
remained so in 174, 169, 164, 159’ and 154. 

The real conception of the matter held in the republican era is 
well set forth in Livy 27, 11, where one of the censors claims that 
senatorial tradition designated the oldest living censorius as the 
proper candidate for princeps, while the other censor urged that 
in this case the princeps civitatis Romanae, Q. Fabius Maximus, 
should be chosen. We may say, I believe, that ordinarily the 
oldest living censorius was really the foremost citizen, and that 
conversely the foremost man in the senate was ordinarily the 
foremost citizen. 

It might happen, of course, as in the case of M. Aemilius 
Lepidus, that, as the princeps was long-lived and actually main- 
tained his formal preeminence in the senate, in the course of 
events he would cease to be princeps civitatis: he might indeed 
be outranked by the very censor who repeated the judgment of 
his predecessors in the work of decd7zo. 

Thus L. Aemilius Paulus in the /ectzo of the census of 164 had 
for four years enjoyed the prestige of Pydna, and was undoubtedly 
the princeps civitatis; still he merely confirmed the previous 
lectio in giving the principatus to M. Aemilius Lepidus.’ That 
the victor of Pydna was then the foremost man in the state would 
require no special demonstration, but as a matter of evidence we 
may quote Cicero, Brutus 80: Atque etiam L. Paulus Africani pater 
personam principis civis facile dicendo tuebatur. Nor did Scipio 
Aemilianus (whom Cicero incessantly presented*® as the ideal 
representative of the republic before the decline) attain the formal 
principatus, although no doubt he was princeps civis. 

The emergencies of the times brought young Pompey into 
unusual prominence, and subsequently into eminence, when 
socially he was merely as yet of the equestrian class, for, with 
the Jex Annalis suspended, Pompey, having returned from the 
Sertorian and Slave war while still an eguwes, was made consul 


1 The word sex in Liv. Epit. 47 is palpably wrong. Perhaps the V of the 
original MSS was copied as VI, and so was transferred into the numeral 
word. 

2 Plut. Aem. Paul. 38, 6 τῆς δὲ βουλῆς προέγραψε μὲν Μάρκον Αἰμίλιον Λέπιδον, 
ἤδη τετράκις καρπούμενον ταύτην τὴν προεδρίαν. 

3 For example, in making him a chief interlocutor in some of the essays. 


AUGUSTUS PRINCEPS. δῚ 


without even having been elected quaestor, and even as consul, 
after the recognitio eguitum, he appeared in the ¢vansvectio of the 
Knights before the censors’ of 70 B. C. to “give up his horse.” 
And thus from that time forward Pompey, and not Catulus, came 
to be “292 re publica princeps”’ until Caesar’s rise made a plurality 
of principes from “Consul Metellus,” 60 B. C., down to Pharsalus, 
48 B. Cc. Hence the familiar lines of Horace, Carm. II 1, 3 sq.: 


gravisque 
Principum amicitias et arma, etc. 


The term princeps then, in the zew or, as Augustus wished to 
have it seem, the vestored, order of things, came to be the most 
common one in current usage, to designate the head of the state. 
It was no doubt well received because it suggested neither vex nor 
dictator, but was a good old republican term, and all its associa- 
tions were of such a kind as to disarm suspicion and ill will. In 
a short time the term came to be one of most comprehensive 
significance. And so the foremost of modern scholars in the field 
of Roman antiquities, in the index of his Staatsrecht, has chosen 
this term in preference to the other more specific ones as the 
general designation for the entire sphere of the emperor. But he 
has taken especial pains also to emphasize his own conception of 
the term. To his mind Augustus is called przmceps not as prin- 
ceps senatus, but as princeps omnium, or as princeps civitatis.’ 
“Dass der Kaiser auch princeps senatus ist, ist mit seiner Stellung 
als princeps nicht zu verwechseln, obwol dies schon Dio tut.” 
And again‘: ‘‘Aber diese Bezeichnung sagt auch weiter nichts 
aus als, wie Augustus selber es ausdriickt, dass der princeps der 
gewichtigste τι. angesehenste Biirger ist,’ and this statement is 


1Plut. Pomp. 22 τότε δὴ προεκάθηντο μὲν οἱ τιμηταὶ Τέλλιος καὶ Λέντλος ἐν 
κόσμῳ καὶ πάροδος ἦν τῶν ἱππέων ἐξεταζομένων. ὥφθη δὲ Πομπήϊος ἄνωθεν én’ 
ἀγορὰν κατερχόμενος, τὰ μὲν ἄλλα παράσημα τῆς ἀρχῆς ἔχων, αὐτὸς δὲ διὰ χειρὸς 
ἄγων τὸν ἵππον. 

*Cic. Fam. I 9, 11; cf. Mommsen, Stsr. II 751, note 4. Mommsen also 
cites Sall. Hist. III, oratio C. Licinii Macri 23: mihi quidem satis spec- 
tatum est, Pompeium tantae gloriae adulescentem malle principem volen- 
tibus vobis esse, quam illis dominationis socium. To which add Cic, Att. 
II 19, 3: huicita plausum est ut salva republica Pompeio plaudi solebat 
(written in July 59). 

*Stsrecht. II, p. 750, note 4. 

potsr. II, p, 750. 

6 


82 E. G. SIHLER. 


supplemented by the footnote’: ‘Mon. Ancyr. 6, 22, nach dem 
eriechischen Text erganzt: praestiti omnibus dignitate (détapare).” 
Again’: “Wo Dio* das berithmte Wort des Tiberius wiedergiebt, 
dass er nicht zmperator sei sondern princeps, braucht er dafur 
nicht bloss das ungeschickte πρόκριτος, sondern es ist ihm der 
Begriff des Principats schon so vollig abhanden gekommen, dass 
er diesen πρόκριτος SOgar ZUM πρόκριτος τῆς γερουσίας, Zum Princeps 
senatus macht.” Again*: “Dass Augustus an der Spitze des 
Verzeichnisses stand, sagt er selbst, aber dass er sich princeps 
senatus nennen liess wie Dio will, widerlegen die Urkunden.” 

The view of other scholars had generally been that prznceps 
was strictly based on princeps senatus and developed from it. 
Thus Hoeck®: ‘‘ Princeps, ohne weitern Beisatz, wurde mitunter 
schon friiher der erste des Senats genannt, und zz keinem andern 
Sinne liessen sich die Kaiser anfangs so nennen. Die Steigerung 
des Begriffs vom Ersten des Senats zum Ersten der Nation erfolgte 
ebenso unvermerkt wie natiirlich.” 

Merivale®: ‘‘the popularity which the assumption of this repub- 
lican title conferred upon the early emperors,” etc. 

Carl Peter’: ‘Der Titel schloss urspriinglich keinen weitern 
realen Vorzug in sich als dass der Inhaber bei den Berathungen 
im Senat zuerst um seine Meinung befragt werden musste. Wie 
aber durch ihn Octavian gehoben wurde, so auch wiederum der 
Titel durch Octavian und die nachfolgenden Kaiser,” etc. 

Madvig*: “den Titel Avznceps senatus aus dem sich das blosse 
princeps als Bezeichnung des Regenten entwickelte [erhielt er] im 
Jahre 28, Dio 53,1.” And elsewhere®: ‘‘Der Name frinceps, der 
aus der Ernennung des Augustus zum frinceps senatus ent- 
springt.” Ranke” has the same view. 


EStsr ΤΙ; pi7 50 nore! 3. = Tb:, pa7i52, note i. 

2 Dio's7,'S. *Stsrcht. III 971, note tr. 

5 Rém. Geschichte vom Verfall der Republik, etc., 1841, I 1, p. 325. 

ὁ Merivale, III, p. 455. He aptly cites Pliny, Panegyr. 55 sedemque 
obtinet principis, ne sit domino locus. 

τ δι. Gesch. III, p. τό. 8 Verf. u. Verw. I, p. 529, note. 

°Ib., p. 534 54. 

10 Weltgeschichte, III 2, p. 399: “ Augustus selbst war wie Caesar princeps 
senatus,” etc. I see now that Ernst Herzog, Geschichte und System der 
rémischen Staatsverfassung, Teubner, 1887, vol. 11, does not agree with 
Mommsen on the question of princeps. He says (p. 133): ‘ Bei der Fest- 
stellung der neuen Senatsliste sodann liess er sich als princeps senatus 


AUGUSTUS PRINCEPS. 83 


In stating my agreement with the scholars just cited 1 should 
like to bring forward several considerations that seem to me 
essential, 

The term princeps iuventutis occurs frequently in the annals of 
the Augustan Era. It throws a strong light, as I believe, on 
the higher title of prizceps to which it is the social or political 
stepping-stone. 

The equestrian class, particularly the specific centurzae eguitum, 
were indeed, as Livy 42, 61 calls them, semznarium senatus, and 
the bulk of the centuriae eguitum, particularly in the later years 
of the Republic, were probably sons of senators. It is a matter 
worthy of note that in the centurial classification there were in the 
pedites both zuniores and seniores, but of the eguztes only tunzores. 
And in the term princeps zuventutis the latter word would seem 
to designate, not the entire youth of Rome, or of the empire, but 
of the alter ordo, particularly of those whose advancement from 
the equestrian to the senatorial class was merely, or chiefly, a 
question of time and maturity. 

Socially and politically (apart from police, azzona and ludz) 
the two ordines were the chief objects that Augustus had in view 
in the regulation of the new government ; cf., for example, the /ex 
lulia de maritandis ordinibus. Forcellini, 5. v. princeps, goes as 
far as to say: ‘in libera civitate fuit princeps iuventutis cuius 
nomen primum recitavit censor ordinem equestrem recensens.” 
What warrant (apart from a general postulated analogy with the 
lectio senatus) he has for this explanation I do not know. 

Cicero (Fam. III 11, 3) calls Pompey (in June, 50 B. C.) 
“omnium saeclorum et gentium” and Brutus, “iam pridem 
zuventutis (princeps, scil.), celeriter, ut spero, civitatis”—certainly 
in a somewhat different sense from the Augustan usage, as Brutus 


erklaren, zundchst in keinem andern Sinne als in dem althergebrachten 
des ersten Votanten.’? Herzog has used the analogy of the princeps 
iuventutis, as I have independently done, and defends Dio against Momm- 
sen. Dio was, of course, not unfitted, by his provincial birth, for a career 
which was almost entirely spent in the higher walks of provincial adminis- 
tration in widely distant (and only in a minor degree oriental) parts of the 
empire. As well might we call Ulpian a Syrian because he was born at 
Tyre. Prof.Schwartz, of Giessen, who is working on the Greek Historians 
of Rome for the new Pauly-Wissowa, is clearly influenced by Mommsen’s 
view, when he calls Dio ‘‘ der brave Bithynier.”’ 


84 E.G) STBLER' 


was then 35 years of age. Cicero’s designation of the son of C. 
Curio as princeps iuventutis (in Vatin. 10, 24) is merely a piece 
of political courtesy. 

But in the Augustan era the designation of Gaius and Lucius 
Caesar as principes iuventutis’ (as noted both in the Mon. Ancy- 
ranum and in other Inss.) distinctly elevated them to a rank 
second only to that of the rznceps himself and made them leaders 
of those out of whom the senate was recruited. It was probably 
in this connection, too, that Augustus reestablished the Zvozae 
lusus (actually fostered even by Caesar, cp. Suetonius, Julius 39). 
Young Ascanius-Iulus in Vergil, Aen. V 545, appears as Drznceps 
tuventutis, so to speak. Here, too, Augustus is repristinating a 
priscus mos, as he ostensibly did in all his institutions (Sueton. 
Aug. 43). 

Madvig (I 530) urges that the character of the princzpatus 
as a magistracy with its apparatus of terms and fixed periods of 
tenure, was also marked by the fact, that “during the entire 
administration of Augustus, there was no formal indication at any 
time that it was to pass to others as something permanently 
established.” With all due respect to the memory and authority 
of the eminent Latinist, I believe that his judgment is too absolute 
in its negative character. The entire manipulation of Augustus’ 
family affairs was determined by the central idea of establishing 
the succession. Marcellus, Gaius and Lucius, Tiberius were the 
successive heirs that were designated. We may confidently say 
that they were the heirs apparent, with Agrippa as a constant 
contingency during his lifetime. Thus in the very triumph after 
Actium (Dio 51, 21), Octavianus gave a largess not only to the 
men, but καὶ τοῖς παισὶ διὰ τὸν Μάρκελλον τὸν ἀδελφιδοῦν. 


Regarding Gaius, who died in February, in the year 4 A. D., see 
the Cenotaphium Pisanum, Orelli, No. 643: iam designatum 
iustissumum ac simillumum parentis sui virtutibus prznucipem. 
It is true that this was not an official manifestation of the Roman 
senate, but the exuberant and adulatory resolution of a colony 
which looked to Gaius as fatronus. Still we may take for 
granted that it was the expression of universal and current public 
opinion, an accepted item in the governmental policy of Augustus. 


1The Greek equivalent is πρόκριτος τῆς νεότητος, or, as Madvig, I 552, n., 
says, πρόκριτος τῆς ἱππάδος. 


AUGUSTUS PRINCEPS. 85 


Why does Mommsen reject Dio’s explanation (53, 1; 57, 8) of 
princeps as πρόκριτος τῆς yepovoias? In the first place, perhaps, 
because it runs counter to his own theory that princeps is equiva- 
lent to princeps civitatis. Furthermore, it does not fit so well with 
his theory of political balance and ‘“Dyarchie” of princeps and 
senate. More weighty perhaps than these considerations is 
another cited above (Staatsr. III 971,n.): ‘‘Dass A. an der Spitze 
des Verzeichnisses stand, sagt er selbst ; aber dass er sich princeps 
senatus nennen liess, wie Dio will, widerlegen die Urkunden.” 
The inscriptions in Orelli-Henzen, as a matter of fact, give the 
titles of zmperator (as praenomen), pontif. maximus, cos., tribu- 
nicia potestate with definite years that had elapsed since tenure 
began, how often the title zmferator had been earned in cam- 
paigns, pater patriae (after 2 B. C.), augur and other minor 
functions. Neither princeps nor princeps senatus is met with for 
Augustus. Dio 53, 1 speaks historically and specifically of the 
particular event as a part of /ectio and census: ras ἀπογραφὰς 
ἐξετέλεσε, καὶ ἐν αὐταῖς πρόκριτος τῆς γερουσίας ἐπεκλήθη. .. This 
aorist needs no emphasis from us. Of Tiberius,’ however, Dio 
speaks differently ; compare 57, 8: πρόκριτός τε τῆς γερουσίας κατὰ τὸ 
dpxaiov' καὶ ὑφ᾽ ἑαυτοῦ ὠνομάζετο. Here, it will be observed, we 
have an imperfect. Did Mommsen confound these items ? 

As a matter of fact, Dio has other equivalents of princeps than 
πρόκριτος; for example, in the Jaudatio funebris of Augustus 
spoken by Tiberius: Dio 56, 39, 5: προστασία ἑνὸς ἀνδρός = prin- 
cipatus; ib., §6: προκρίναντες ἠναγκάσατε χρόνον γέ τινα ὑμῶν 
προστῆναι, προκρίνειν being the formal designation of princeps 
and the προστασία the actual administrative power gradually 
associated with przncipatus. 

Dio then does not, as far as I am able to see, say that Augustus 
was vegularly called (sich nennen liess) primceps senatus. The 
occurrence (as in the case of Tiberius) or non-occurrence (as in 
the case of Augustus) of przzceps in the inscriptions does not 


1Why not? In his earlier years Tiberius affected the appearance of 
being czvi/is in every way; cf. Suetonius, Tiberius 26. Why should he not 
emphasize, then, the institutional etymology (if I may say so) of princeps? 
It was one of the characteristic traits of this Claudian, moreover, to empha- 
size ‘‘consuetudo antigua.’’ By merging himself again in the senate, so to 
speak, he disarmed in a measure that feeling of distrust which he knew 
that his native Zauteur had bred in public opinion. Cf. Suetonius, c, 30. 


86 E. G. SIHLER. 


seem to me to offer any argument either way for the original 
signification of Arinceps. 

Augustus, through his fellow censor and closest political friend 
Agrippa, had bestowed (virtually) the first place in the senate 
upon himself. Is it not very probable that the senators and the 
Roman world in general (in that spirit of deference which antici- 
pated the ultimate aims of this astute manager) dropped the 
limiting and modifying senxatus from the title at the very begin- 
ning? Whether Horace, Carm. I 2, 49, 

hic magnos potius triumphos 
hic ames dici pater atque princeps 

was prompted by recent action in the senate or by the official 
designation of princeps senatus, it is difficult to state. The ele- 
ment of utility in the relations between Horace’ and Augustus is 
pretty well understood. It is possible, too, that the ode fore- 
shadowed impending action of the government, and both tested 
and urged on that public opinion towards which Augustus was 
as supremely sensitive as he was supremely clever in anticipating, 
manipulating and conciliating it. 

New York University, Wov. 3, 1900. E. G. SIHLER. 


1 Pliiss, Horazstudien, 1882, pp. 16-43, argues that 36 B. Ὁ. was the date 
of this ode and that it was elicited by the campaign against Sextus Pom- 
peius. His arguments seem to be very subjective and his points far- 
fetched. Special students of Horace such as Lucian Miiller and Teuffel 
agree that the years 31-30 mark the terminus a quo of all ode-composition 
by Horace. Mitscherlich, Nauck, Kiessling all refer to the designation of 
princeps senatus of 28 B. C. 


THE ATHENIAN IN HIS RELATIONS TO THE 
STATE. 


The following discussion of certain of the legal and sociological 
aspects of Athenian life is based largely on the works of the 
Attic orators, and especially on the orations of Isaeus. Valuable 
material, it is true, has also been found in the works of authors 
belonging to other departments of Greek literature; but it is to 
Isaeus that the writer is particularly indebted, inasmuch as the 
works of this orator, in themselves, contain so much of the 
material necessary for reconstructing the life of the Athenians, 
and for understanding the influences by which that life was dom- 
inated. The pictures that Isaeus draws are not always complete 
in detail, it is true, and yet the essential outlines are there. 

It may be noted at the outset that the life of the citizen of 
Athens was closely associated with the Athenian inheritance 
system; to consider the one apart from the other would be 
impossible. It might, perhaps, be more correct to observe, that 
the life of the Athenian was, to a large extent, molded and dom- 
inated by the inheritance laws. Another important factor must 
be considered in this connection, namely, the strong religious 
feeling which permeated the life of the individual and the inher- 
itance institutions, and which found expression in the worship 
of the ancestors as well as of the gods, and in the solicitude of the 
Athenian with respect to the heir and with regard to the exten- 
sion of the family line. Perrot, Droit Publique d’ Athénes, pp. 
132-133, well says, in this connection: “The sentiment which 
attaches to one another the individuals in the family the families 
in the race, the races in the phratria, the phratrias in the tribe, the 
tribes in the state—is the belief in a common ancestor, the adora- 
tion of this first father; ... it is the respect with which that 
member of each group, to whom comes the honor of succeeding 
to the deified ancestry, sees himself surrounded. ... This is 
the principle which dominates all this hierarchy of associations ; 
this is the keystone which upholds all these concentric arches.” 


88 CHARLES ALBERT SAVAGE. 


This deep religious feeling, that forms perhaps the chief motive 
for adoption, and strikingly manifests itself in the life of the 
individual and the state—this feeling constantly finds expression 
in the Greek writers. Everywhere one sees emphasized the 
importance of continuing the family worship; and following the 
glorification of the ancestors during the individual’s life, we read 
of the homage that is to be paid to the individual himself after 
death—homage which every Athenian believed to be indispens- 
able to his future happiness. A striking passage, illustrating the 
Athenian feeling for the dead, occurs in Isae. 2, 47, where the 
speaker exclaims: ‘‘I entreat you to render aid to us and to 
him also who is in Hades”—the thought being that, unless the 
adopted son be permitted to possess the inheritance and honor 
the dead, the latter will actually suffer in Hades. Similar ideas 
are expressed in a number of passages found in Isaeus (Cf. 9, 36; 
I, 10). 

If now we leave the sphere of the orators, we find in Homer 
and in the tragic poets manifestations of the same religious 
feeling. A most significant passage, showing that the Athenians 
looked upon the obligations to the dead as sent from Heaven, 
occurs in Soph. Antig., 450 ff. The king has demanded of Anti- 
gone whether she knew of his edict forbidding that funeral rites be 
paid her brother. She replies (to adopt the rendering of Jebb), 
‘“‘ Yes, for it was not Zeus that published me that edict; not such 
are the laws set among men by the Justice who dwells with 
the gods below; nor deemed I that thy decrees were of such 
force, that a mortal could override the unwritten and unfailing 
statutes of Heaven.” So, too, Antigone says (line 519): ‘‘ Hades 
demands these rites.” 

Prof. Jebb remarks in this connection (Soph. Antig., Introd. p. 
25) that Antigone, the nearest of kin to the dead, “15 fulfilling 
one of the most sacred and the most imperative duties known to 
Greek religion,” in paying the funeral rites to her brother. 

The same authority observes (pp. 32-33): “It is true that the 
legends of the heroic age afford some instances in which a dead 
enemy is left unburied, as a special mark of abhorrence. ... Yet 
these same legends show that from a very early period Hellenic 
feeling was shocked at the thought of carrying enmity beyond 
the grave, and withholding the rites on which the welfare of the 
departed spirit was believed to depend. ... Achilles maltreated 


ATHENIAN IN HIS RELATIONS TO THE STATE. 89 


the dead Hector. Yet, even there, the Iliad expresses the Greek 
feeling by the beautiful and touching fable that the gods them- 
selves miraculously preserved the corpse from all defacement and 
from all corruption, until at last the due obsequies were rendered 
toitat Troy.” (Il. 24, 411 ff.) 

It is necessary to realize the depth and power of this religious 
feeling for the dead, and the dominating influence of ancestor 
worship among the Greeks, in order to appreciate the immense 
importance attached to the inheritance laws, and the anxiety of 
every Athenian with reference to an heir. 

Closely associated with the thought of devotion to the dead 
was the feeling of dread lest one should die and leave behind a 
“desolate heritage”. To pass away without leaving an heir to 
continue the family line and the ancestor worship, was, to the 
Athenian mind, not only a calamity but a disgrace, and many 
passages in Isaeus, as well as in Greek authors generally, indicate 
the genuine horror with which the Athenians regarded such a 
contingency. (Isae. 7, 30; 6,5; Eurip. Alc. 655 ff.) 

The adoption of a son, then, to insure the line and continue the 
worship of the ancestors was, naturally, widely prevalent; and 
the undercurrent of religious feeling is again perceived when one 
notes, still further, the duties of the heir, and the motives for 
adoption. We read in Isae. 7, 30: “All men who are about 
to die take forethought for themselves, ... that there may be 
some one to offer sacrifices to them and perform all customary 
rites.” We learn from Isae. 9, 30, that the son was associated 
with the father in the performance of religious ceremonies during 
life; and it appears also from many passages that it was the 
solemn duty and privilege of the heir to visit the family altars 
and offer sacrifices (Isae. 6, 51; 9, 7; Xen. Mem. 2, 2, 13). 

Thus the prominence of the religious feeling in the life of the 
individual and in the inheritance system is very apparent. But, 
apart from the point of view of the individual, it is to be remem- 
bered that the perpetuity of the family, the continuance of the 
domestic cult, and the maintenance of the ancestral possessions, 
were matters of great concern also for the state. Perrot, L’Elo- 
quence Politique et Judiciaire 4 Athénes, p. 364, remarks: ‘‘It 
was a disastrous thing for the city that one of those altars upon 
which every year for centuries the hereditary sacrifices had been 
offered, should suddenly be seen to be neglected, and finally 


go CHARLES ALBERT SAVAGE. 


abandoned. All those legendary heroes, those glorious ancestors, 
watched constantly over their descendants, and in return for the 
homage which they received, protected still this Athens, for 
which they had formerly lived, fought, and suffered. With every 
family that became extinct, the city was losing a protector, in 
allowing the family worship to perish with it. If it were often so, 
the gods of the lower world would finally become enraged against 
the city which they had so long favored.” 

In this connection, it is interesting to note a passage from 
Isaeus (7, 30), in which the speaker, after alluding to the obliga- 
tions to the dead, and after remarking that it was customary for 
childless men to adopt a son, adds: ‘‘ And not only do men take 
cognizance of this individually, but the state publicly recognizes 
these obligations. For by law the supervision of private homes 
is enjoined upon the archon, who shall see to it that they are not 
left desolate.”’ 

With this, one may compare a passage from the Antigone of 
Sophocles (lines 748-749), in which the king reproaches his son 
because the latter has taken the part of Antigone. Creon says, 
with reference to Antigone, who has just been caught in the act of 
paying funeral rites to her brother: “All thy words ... plead 
for that girl.” Haemon sternly replies, ‘And for thee, and for 
me, and for the gods below.’” 

Closely in accord also with Perrot’s utterances, above cited, 
is a passage in the Antigone (988 ff.) in which the aged prophet 
declares, that “the gods are wroth with Thebes; they will no 
longer give their prophet any sign by the voice of birds, or 
through the omens of sacrifice (lines 1016 ff.). The king himself 
is the cause, by his edict, forbidding the burial of the dead.” 
Prof. Jebb remarks further (Soph. Antig., Introd. pp. 14-15): 
“The king’s duty to the dead and to the gods below was now a 
duty toward the polluted state, from which his impiety had alien- 
ated the gods above.” (Cf. lines 1065 ff.) 

Nothing could more strikingly illustrate the Greek feeling for 
the dead than these passages from the great tragedy. Here we 
see that the king’s refusal to permit a member of the family to 
bury the dead was actually calling down the wrath of Heaven 
upon the state. 

Apart from religious considerations, the state also had strong 


1 The rendering is Jebb’s. 


ATHENIAN IN HIS RELATIONS TO THE STATE. οἵ 


political motives for insuring the perpetuity of the family, and the 
preservation of the ancestral possessions. It is to be remembered 
that the number of the citizens was limited, and especially the 
heads of rich families, who could discharge important public 
services, such as equipping a chorus. If, now, the family became 
extinct, and the property passed into the hands of some obscure 
person, he could and generally did find some pretext for contrib- 
uting less liberally to the expenses of the government, and the 
glory of the state. This is forcibly brought out in Isae. 6, 38; 
60-61. Here the speaker, having dwelt upon the distinguished 
public services of members of his house, promises to use his 
means for the glorification of the state, just as his family had done 
from time immemorial; and he calls attention to the fact that if 
the inheritance passes out of the family, the state can no longer 
expect to receive any such benefits; that, in fact, much of the 
property has already disappeared, to the detriment of the state. 

Thus, the religious and political motives of the state for perpet- 
uating the inheritance and the family are very apparent. In view 
of the existence of such motives, it was not strange that Athens 
watched so faithfully over the ancestral mansion and the family 
altar. The importance of the réle played by the laws of succes- 
sion can hardly be overestimated, and one can readily understand 
the eagerness of the Athenians to adopt an heir, if ever a break 
occurred in the family line. 

If now we consider somewhat more in detail certain phases in 
the life of the Athenian, we shall still observe that the influence 
of the religious idea was dominant, and that the demands of the 
state were most uncompromising. For example, there was a cur- 
tailment of personal liberty in the marriage relation, and in the 
circumstances surrounding it. Every Athenian was forbidden to 
marry a foreigner, under pain of the severest penalties [(Dem.) 
59, 16; 52]; evidently because such a union might tend to 
diminish patriotic feeling, and because the family cult under 
such circumstances, might eventually be neglected. Nor could 
an Athenian always choose his wife; if a father died without sons, 
leaving a daughter (the heiress) neither married nor betrothed, it 
became the duty of the next of kin to marry the girl, or otherwise 
to provide for her. An elderly uncle could thus claim a youthful 
niece; this obligation on the part of the next of kin is clearly 
established. (Isae. 1, 39; 3,67; 10,5; [Dem.] 43, 54; Andoc. 


92 CHARLES ALBERT SAVAGE. 


1, 117 ff.) And here again the explanation is obvious; the 
inheritance must be kept within the family. But the inheritance 
law went a step further ; and, astonishing as it may seem, we find 
that too often there was no security even in the marriage relation, 
and circumstances might arise which would tear the wife from her 
husband, and give her to another. Isaeus says (3, 64): ‘‘ And 
with reference to women who have been given in marriage by 
their fathers, ... if their father dies without leaving tothem ... 
brothers, the law ordains that they be claimed in marriage by the 
next of kin, and many husbands (in this way) have actually been 
deprived of their wives.” (Cf. Isae. 10, 19.) 

Such was one of the results of the Athenian inheritance system, 
carried out to its logical conclusion. The property must be kept 
within the family, or else the state would suffer; the ancestor 
worship must be continued by the heir, otherwise the gods might 
become estranged, and might proceed to afflict not only the 
family, but the state. The rights and sacred affections of the 
members of the family are of minor importance; the individual 
and the family live chiefly to perpetuate religion and serve the 
state. 

Besides all this, there were likely to be other grounds for 
unhappiness in the marriage of the heiress with the next of kin, 
for, even if their life proved to be a tranquil one, there was little 
satisfaction for either husband or wife in the possession of the 
estate. As Perrot, L’Eloquence Politique et Judiciaire ἃ Athénes, 
pp. 371 ff., expresses it: ‘‘The inheritance was not transmitted 
to the daughter, but with the daughter. It did not belong to the 
woman, who, held in a perpetual state of legal incapacity, was dis- 
qualified to possess it. It belonged still less to the husband, who 
was a member of another family, and celebrated another domestic 
cult.” He, then, was virtually the trustee, and the estate was 
held in trust for the son born from this marriage. ‘‘When this 
son had attained his majority,” continues Perrot, “he left his 
father’s house, and, although his father and mother were still 
living, he took possession of the estate of his maternal grand- 
father.” (CE Dem. i[43])\51G.1401,\20;) Isae. 8, 325 3,509 

It was evident, then, that the position of the heiress was a 
peculiarly hard one, for, apart from her other trials, she was con- 
stantly confronted by the thought that she and her husband were 
considered of minor importance as compared with their son, and 


ATHENIAN IN HIS RELATIONS LO THE STATE, 93 


that this heir might some day sweep them aside and enjoy for 
himself the rich inheritance that had cost his parents so dear. 

In forming our estimate of the lot of the Athenian woman, we 
must remember that her position, however distressing from our 
point of view, was not, after all, at variance with the hard logic 
of the old institutions. It is necessary to bear in mind that the 
man’s paramount duties were to the religion and the state, accord- 
ing to the Athenian point of view. Since, then, the woman was 
disqualified to serve the family and the state by performing the 
religious duties that devolved upon the heir; and since she was 
incapable of discharging the arduous and expensive public ser- 
vices that fell to the lot of the head of an influential family ; 
therefore, from the point of view of the individual and the state, 
she was compelled to occupy a wholly subordinate position. It 
was cruel, and yet it was doubtless inevitable. 

In connection with this general subject, it may perhaps be of 
interest to note Aristotle’s criticism of one phase of the Spartan 
polity, which is summarized on p. 106 of the Susemihl & Hicks 
edition of the Politics, as follows: ‘‘The permission to give 
away or bequeath land at pleasure; the absence of any limit 
as to the amount of the dower; the unrestricted right of the 
father ... to bestow an heiress upon any one he likes; all 
this combined has brought two-thirds of the Spartan land 
into female hands, and occasioned moreover terrible inequality 
of possessions, with a frightful diminution in the number of 
the men capable of bearing arms.” (Cf. Arist. Pol. 2, 9, 14 ff.) 
The Athenian antipathy to all things Spartan, and the desire 
to avoid any such contingencies as those mentioned by 
Aristotle, may perhaps have influenced the Athenians in 
certain of their radical legislative enactments. At the same 
time, it must be acknowledged that they overreached them- 
selves; and while believing that they were providing for the 
perpetuity of Athens, by subordinating the family so completely 
to the state, they were actually hastening their downfall as a 
nation. 

Other aspects of the life of the Athenian citizen might be 
discussed, and many passages could be cited to illustrate his 
peculiar obligations to the state. In particular, one might note 
the startling dependence of the Athenian father upon the opera- 
tion of the inheritance laws, and the striking contrast between his 


94 CHARLES ALBERT SAVAGE. 


own restricted power and the unlimited authority possessed by 
the Roman father over the members of his family. But to pursue 
these topics further would protract the discussion unduly; and 
enough has perhaps been said to establish the general principles. 

In conclusion, then, it must be admitted that the family life of 
the Athenians in the time of the orators was often full of peril. 
Dominated as the family relations were by the obligations to 
religion and to the state, neither husband, wife, son nor daughter 
could tell when life’s hope and happiness might not be shattered. 
There was something radically wrong in a system in which the 
very bulwarks of society—the sanctity of married life and the 
integrity of the family—were likely to be ruthlessly attacked at 
any moment. Far more pleasing is the picture of the old Roman 
father surrounded by his family; a father stern and often cruel, 
if you will, but secure in the possession of his own; the mighty 
unit in the massive and long-enduring Roman civilization. 

It is amazing that the Athenians, with all their intellectual 
power and keenness, should have tolerated such abuses, and 
ignored the very safeguards of the nation’s life. In their 
superstitious fear lest they should offend some deified an- 
cestor, they trampled upon the most sacred rights of the 
individual and the family; they wronged the living in their 
frantic efforts to honor the dead. In their endeavors to create 
a more powerful governmental fabric, they utterly ignored 
individual liberty ; theirs was the fatal error of destroying the 
integrity of the component parts, while striving to create a more 
perfect whole. Inthe ultimate analysis of the conditions which 
confront us, it is impossible to deny that the individual and the 
family existed for the state. In the age of Isaeus and Demos- 
thenes, it is true, there seemed to be a tendency to break with 
old traditions, and men evidently had begun to realize that the 
institutions of the past were insufficient for the changed condi- 
tions of the times. But the lack of independent authority on the 
part of the father, the insecurity of the husband, and the conse- 
quent weakness of the family, were fatal; beyond question, this 
constituted one of the causes which made Greek society less 
permanent than the powerful and long-enduring civilization of 
the Romans. 


UNIVERSITY OF MINNESOTA. CHARLES ALBERT SAVAGE. 


USE OF THE SUFFIXES -ANUS AND -INUS IN 
FORMING POSSESSIVE ADJECTIVES FROM 
NAMES OF PERSONS. 


Latin adjectives in -@uus have received such extended treat- 
ment from Schnorr von Carolsfeld’ that some explanation of the 
discussion of a closely connected subject, viz., the formation and 
use of possessive adjectives from names of persons, may properly 
be given at the beginning of the present article. While Schnorr 
von Carolsfeld has very thoroughly traced the general develop- 
ment of the Latin suffix -@zus, he does not profess to have made 
his collection a complete one for the classical period, and he has 
discussed very briefly the differences which exist in classical usage 
between the secondary formations and the gentile adjective. The 
personal suffix -zzzs has not received treatment since Reisig,’ and 
no reference is made either by Reisig or Schnorr von Carolsfeld 
to the important testimony of Varro and Priscian upon the proper 
limits of its use. I shall attempt to supplement the article of 
Schnorr von Carolsfeld under the two heads just indicated and at 
the same time to show the part which the suffix -zzws has played 
in this disputed question of the possessive formations. 

The chief uses of these adjectives may first be briefly noted. 
Adjectives in -aus formed from the names of persons are in 
their use commonly possessives, closely paralleled by the genitive, 
and this is the head to which they are referred in Priscian’s 
detailed treatment (Gv. Za?. K. II, 69-82). A second use, i. e., 
the patronymic, is conveniently recognized by Priscian (p. 63) in 
the cognomen Aemzlianus, assumed by a person who has passed, 
through adoption, from the gezs Aemilia to another gens. In 
respect to the range of their use, it is obvious that these posses- 
sives, which are formed largely from the names of contemporary 
persons, are much more restricted than the corresponding geni- 
tives, and that they tend to occur in certain set phrases. Such 
expressions as we freely employ in English, ‘the Smith mortgage,’ 


Archiv f. lat. Lex., 1, 177-194. 2 Vorlesungen, I, 237 f. 
77-19 δ 37 


96 ROBERT S. RADFORD. 


‘the Tichborne trial,’ ‘the Clayton—Bulwer treaty,’ etc., are sug- 
gestive and often exact parallels. The principle underlying the 
Latin usage appears to be that the possessives either refer to 
some act or quality of a person which is assumed to be well-known 
or notorious, e. g. Clodianus furor, or they are concise forms 
which belong to the language of business and commercial life, 
e.g. Pomponianum nomen (‘debt’). The former head which 
includes the occurrence of these adjectives in well-known political, 
legal and literary references may be passed over here, and atten- 
tion directed to the second or strictly commercial use. Cicero’s 
Letters afford the most frequent examples of this use, which in 
some cases becomes more common even than that of the genitive. 
Hence in the Leffervs nearly two-thirds of the occurrences of the 
possessives (97 out of 156) relate to the purchase and sale of 
houses and lands, the settlement of property claims, the collection 
of debts, legacies, promissory notes, and the like. The substan- 
tives most commonly qualified by possessives are domus, hortz, 
villa, praedium, negotium, res, nomen, also auctio, bona, caput, 
coheredes, controversia, mancipia, praedes, syngrapha, etc. The 
clearest illustration, however, of the predilection shown for the 
possessive forms in legal and commercial transactions may per- 
haps be drawn from the language of the jurisconsults, e. g. Dig. 
8, 3, 33 essent mihi et tibi για duo communes 77tianus et 
Seianus ; 76.5, 4,7 verbi gratia... sunt Setanae. et Sempro- 
nianae (aedes); cf. CIL. XIV, 2527 pertineat hoc sepulchrum 
ad possessionem fundorum Naeviani et Calpurniani.' 

It is clear that the possessives in this use indicate only external 
and technical relations, and that the genitive alone can represent 
the individual in voluntary personal and social relations. For 
example, the possessive adjective is used with v7//a or domus in 
questions of bargain and sale, or of the local position of some 
hereditary mansion: Cic. Att. 1,13,6 Autronianam domum emit; 
26. 4, 3, 3 ex Anniana [Milonis] domo eduxit viros. Where the 
possessor is viewed at the same time as the friend or the host, 
only the genitive is possible: Cic. 2211. 20, 54 devertit in vzllam 
Pompeit. Hence in the higher oratorical style arise certain 
restrictions upon the use of the possessive in property relations. 


1On the frequency of this commercial use in the inscriptions, see the 
indices to the Corpus under Fund, Villae; as II, p, 1195; IV, p. 256, etc. 


THE SUFFIXES -ANUS AND -INUS. 97 


For the purpose of the present summary a single illustration will 
suffice, i. e., in referring to his own clients and personal friends, 
Cicero does not use the possessive in the Ovations, but writes 
always dona (P.) Ouincti, bona (Sex.) Rosct, ete. 

Cicero, asa rule, forms possessives with the termination -azus 
only from the ia-stems of gentile adjectives, e.g., Zudlia, Cornelia, 
or from those of an entirely similar form. The following forma- 
tions of this kind, occurring in Cicero, may be noted as found 
neither in Lewis and Short nor in Georges: 

Acutilianus, Asuvianus (al. Avillianus), Brinnianus, Caerel- 
lianus, Calidianus, Canuleianus, Cispianus, Cuspianus, Fufianus, 
Fulcinianus, Hirtianus, Hostilianus, Lucinianus (al. Licinianus), 
Nanneianus, Paccitanus, Pacilianus, Populianus, Safinianus, 
Scandilianus, Selicianus, Sthenianus, Tadianus, Trebonianus, 

Vedianus, Vennonianus, Veratianus (al. Neratianus), Vettianus.' 

A second and much smaller class consists of possessives which 
are formed without a previously existing gentile adjective. These 
forms may be due either to the original suffix -zus added to 
a-stems, or to the developed suffix -aus added to o-stems, but in 
the present discussion both classes may be conveniently treated 
together. Of these formations only a few gained general currency 
or were used by Cicero. Fimbrianus and Lamianus present no 
difficulty, as the stem is here entirely similar to that of the gentile 
adjective. Besides these there are found in Cicero only Cinnanus, 
Sullanus, Scapulanus (Scapula) and Gracchanus. The last 
occurs but once (rut. 34, 128), and is very evidently avoided by 
Cicero in the Orations,’ but is used freely later (Val. Max., Sen., 
Quint.; Flor.). As Schnorr von Carolsfeld has shown (p. 186) in 
the case of Lepidanus, Lucullanus, Augustanus, substantially all 
the formations which were made near the close of the republican 
period waver in later usage and offer variant forms with the 
improper suffix -z2zzs, while, from the second half of the Augustan 
period on, new formations are made only in -zazus. The early 
forms Cinnanus, Sullanus and Gracchanus alone remain abso- 


1The above collection has been made from the text, but the writer has 
since noted in vol. XI of the Tauchnitz edition of Baiter and Kayser the 
substantially complete enumeration of all the proper adjectives that are 
used by Cicero. 
*Vat. 9, 27 Gracchorum ferocitate et cruore Cinnano; Agr. 1, 7, 21. 2, 
29, 81, Rab. Perd. 4,13, Brut. 58, 212, Or. 70, 2323. 
7 


98 ROBERT S. RADFORD. 


lutely fixed (perhaps also Cleopatranus). To the republican 
formations of this class, which continued in use to a greater or 
less extent, should be added Crassanus’ (Plin. 6, 47 Detlef.), 
Mamurranus (CIL. XIV, 2431), Cleopatranus (Treb. Pol. Zyr. 
30, 19. 32, 6), Perpennanus (ap. Prisc. K. I], 77,11), and Hercu- 
lanus (CIL. II, 4064, Gell. 1, 1, 3). 

Without regard to the manner of formation, we may con- 
veniently note here the extension of the purely Roman suffix 
-anus (-7anus) to other than Roman words. The adjective Her- 
culaneus, which is found in the popular speech as early as Plautus 
(later in Plin., Sen., Capitol., [Apul.] Zerd.), presupposes a form 
Herculanus, and we have seen that the latter actually occurs 
in inscriptions and in Gellius. Cicero permits himself to form 
Trophonianus (Att. 6, 2, 3) from a mythological Greek name, and 
Catullus in a drinking-song makes 7hyonianus (c. 27,7). We 
meet also with PArixianus (a popular formation: Plin., Sen.), 
Annibalianus (as cognomen: Vop. Prod. 22, 3), Hasdrubalianus 
(Sidon.), and from place-names Phasianus (Plin., Suet., Pall., 
Lampr.), and Ayperboreanus (Hieron.). From contemporary 
names presenting Greek stems are formed TZerezanus (Plin.), 
Patroclianus (Mart.), Nicerotianus (Mart.), Hermogenianus 
(Cod. Theod.).2. The Romanizing of Greek town-names in -irns 
through the addition of the Latin termination -azus, as in Veapo- 
litanus, Taurominitanus, etc., is well-known (Prise. K. II, 79; 
Schnorr von Carolsfeld, p. 189). 

The Romans of the Republic formed possessives in -a@zus very 
freely from ia- and io- stems; with respect to all other stems, they 
were not agreed whether they should form the adjective in -azus, 
in -7mus, or in -zanus. The most important testimony in ancient 
times upon this question is that given by Varro, L. L. 9, 42, 71 
Sp.’ In this passage Varro cites Cascellianus and Aguilianus as 


1 Crassianus: Vell., Val. Max., Flor. 

2 See further P. Meyer, Die cognomina auf -anus griechischen stammes auf 
den rim. inschriften, Bern, 1886. 

3 Quae (vocabula) tamen fere non discedunt ab ratione sine iusta causa, 
ut hi qui gladiatores Faustinos; nam quod plerique dicuntur, ut tris 
extremas syllabas habeant easdem Cascelliani, [Caeciliani], Aquiliani, 
animadvertunto, unde oriuntur, nomina dissimilia Cascellius, Caecilius 
Aquilius . . . Faustius, recte dicerent Faustianos ; sic a Scipione quidam 
male dicunt Scipioninos; nam est Scipionarios. (L. Miiller supplied the 
lacuna: Faustus, quod si esset.) 


THE SUFFIXES -ANUS AND -INUS. 99 


the adjectives formed from Cascellius and Aguilius respectively, 
but he denies that any true analogy exists between these names 
and Faustus. On the contrary, he approves the usage of those 
who form from Faustus the adjective Faustinus,’ and he declares 
that Faustianus is correctly derived only from Faustzus. Ata 
later period, as we learn from Charisius (G7. Lat. K.1, 94), Velius 
Longus wrote a special book upon the same question, and his 
treatment was probably in many respects similar to the extended 
discussion of the adjectival suffixes -azus, -énus and -imus that we 
now find in Priscian. 

The earliest example of the improper formations in -zazus 
which are here condemned by Varro, appears to be Cato, A. 2. 
7, 3 cotonea Ouiriniana. It is clear that these improper forms 
were already in general use at the close of the Republic, 
but they are carefully avoided by Cicero in the orations and 
philosophical works. Twice only in his letters to Atticus does he 
allow himself the use of the new adjectives : 12, 25, 2 Drusianis 
hortis (perhaps also 26. 22, 3, where M has Drusza); 16, 11, 8 
Lepidianis feriis. If Varro himself uses Cae/ianz of the followers 
of Caeles Vibenna (LZ. Z. 5, 8, 46), the possessive is to be 
regarded as properly formed from the gentile adjective Caelius, 
yet even Varro cannot wholly escape the prevailing tendency, as 
is shown by the assumption of a form Dzviana (5, το, 68) to 
explain Diana. 

The question how far these possessive adjectives in -7ms, which 
the grammarians pronounced correct, were introduced into actual 
use may best be considered, after a brief summary has been given 
of the chief uses of the Latin suffix -izus. With appellatives the 
most familiar use of the suffix is in forming adjectives from the 
names of animals, e. g., aguilinus, bovinus, catulinus, columbinus, 
equinus, leoninus, etc. Again, the suffix is freely employed in 
forming adjectives from the names of towns and peoples, e. g., 
Agrigentinus, Centuripinus, Praenestinus, Saguntinus, Taren- 
tinus, cf. Tiberinus, etc. In the case of io- or id- stems the 
primary suffix -zzs is often employed, e.g. Aricinus, Brundisinus, 
Canusinus, Latinus, Numantinus, etc. Inthe formation of such 


1In the same connection Cicero uses the genitive: Su//, 19, 54 Fausti 
munus. Faustianus is found later: Plin. 14, 62.63; Front. 32. de Fer. 
Als. 3, p. 224 Nab. 


100 ROBERT S. RADFORD. 


national and geographical adjectives the suffix -izus performs a 
function altogether similar to that of the suffix -duus, and occa- 
sionally from the same place-name we find that both formations 
have been in use, e.g. from “721, Arpanus Varr., Plin., Front., Col., 
Arpinus Liv.; from Spoletium, Spoletinus Cic., Liv., Plin., Spole- 
tanus Prisc. (Gr. Lat. K. II, 78); from Vezens, Vetentanus Liv., 
Hor., Mart., Plin., Vezentinus Inscrr.; Hortanum Plin., Hortinus 
Verg.; compare Asculanus from Asculum in Picenum, Asculinus 
from Asculum in Apulia. Finally, the suffix -zzus forms cog- 
nomina which commonly indicate the parentage of the person, 
i. e., the cognomen of the father, which is most often some well- 
known appellative, is borne by the son with the added suffix -zmus. 
Thus Marcellinus (Cic. Div. in Caecil. 4, 13) denotes the son of 
Marcellus, Scaurinus (Capitol. Ver. 2, 5) the son of Scaurus, and 
the like.’ The following cognomina occur in Cicero: Acidinus, 
Albinus, Balbinus, Caecina, Caesoninus, Calvinus, Censorinus, 
Corvinus, Flamininus, Laevinus, Longinus, Luscinus, Mancinus, 
Marcellinus, Porcina (?), Rubellinus, Saturninus, Viscellinus. 
Such surnames are formed not only from o- and 4- stems, but occa- 
sionally also from io- stems through the original suffix -zzs, e. g. 
Flamininus (?), Antoninus. Under the empire the use of these 
patronymics came more and more into vogue,’ and often sup- 
planted an ancient family cognomen, as in the case of the sons of 
Messala Corvinus, who took the name of Messalinus (Tib., Vell., 
Tac.). The termination -z@zus, among its many other uses, has 
also at times a patronymic force, but rarely in cases where the 
appellative origin of the cognomen continued to be easily recog- 
nized. Sometimes we find both suffixes applied to the same stem 
in the formation of cognomina, i. e. both Vepotinus and WNepoti- 
anus occur in inscriptions, both AZacrinus and Macrianus in the 
Scriptt. Hist. Aug. 


1Qn the diminutive force of the suffix -2zus, which is doubtless derived 
from its use in the patronymic formations, see Olcott, Word Formation of 
the Latin Inscriptions, p. 134, and on the employment of the patronymic 
formations in -27us as the personal cognomina of women, see Schneider, 
Beitrége zur kenntniss der rom. personennamen, Ὁ. 63 f. 

2 See especially the indices of the Corpus, and Friedlander’s /zdex to the 
real and fictitious names used by Martial. Martial is fond of these names, 
which have a certain elegance or imply endearment, e. g. Fabullinus, 
Faventinus. 


THE SUFFIXES -ANUS AND -INUS. IOI 


The formation of patronymic cognomina finally became the 
sole use of the suffix -7ws when applied to the names of persons, 
and Charisius’ is quite right in denying wholly for his own age 
the existence of the adjectival use. But in the republican age 
the question was still an open one, and the adjectival use of the 
suffix -zzus was at least possible. Cicero, it is true, almost 
invariably avoided all controverted forms through the employ- 
ment of the genitive,’ but at times, chiefly in the Le#tervs, he has 
made a tentative use of the formations in -zzzs. 

In an enumeration of such of these adjectives as occur in Cicero 
we may first set apart two which evidently belong to a much earlier 
period of formation, viz., Szdy//inus (Varr., Cic., Liv., Hor., Quint., 
Gell., Lact.), Mamertinus (Cic., Liv., Plin., Mart.); cf. also 
matutinus (from Matuta, cf. Prisc. K. II, 76,18). Of the nine 
remaining forms found in Cicero only three occur more than once, 
viz., Antiochinus, ligurthinus, Verrinus. Two classes may be 
conveniently distinguished, according as the termination is applied 
to purely Roman or to Greek and foreign names. 


I. Roman NameEs.—Cic. Zp. ad Brut. τ, 15,6 Brutina*® con- 
silia; 1b. 1, 2, 5 Plautinus pater, Varro ap. Quint. 10, I, 99 
Plautino sermone, also Hor., Front., Gell.; Cic. Very. 2,1, 46, 121 
Verrinum tus, 2,78, 191 Verrina cauda, later Verrinae (orationes) 
in Priscian (II 201, 5. 357, 3 K.), Victorinus, Mart. Cap., and other 
grammarians; Cic. “4122. 1, 13, 5 Metellina* oratio, also Festus, 
p- 363, 12 M. aedes Jovis Metellina, Treb. Pol. Tyr. 25, 4 lsium 
Metellinum. This last adjective appears to be an earlier forma- 
tion, which at one time was admitted into general use. Compare 
the name of the Spanish city Metel/inum (Itin. Ant. p. 416, 2), 
which perhaps, as Hiibner conjectures (CIL. II, p. 73) was 
named after Metellus Pius; so also Plin. 4, 117 colonia Metelii- 


1 Gr. Lat. K.1, 93, 29 ff. cum sit Agrippa, mulierem Agrippinam dicimus, 
thermas vero Agrippinianas. ... thermas Titinas ut pelles lupinas non 
dicimus, sed Titianas. : 

2 The language long remained contented with the genitive even in some 
cases where the adjective lay apparently close at hand, e. g. 4221 Forum. 
Except in strictly official language /ex Caepionis is always an alternate 
form for /ex Servilia, see Orelli’s Jndex Legum, VIII, 268; cf. Cic. Dom. 
16, 41 M. Drusi leges, etc. Gracchana lex occurs first in Florus (2, 1 sqq.), 
Leoniana or Zenoniana lex first in the jurisconsults. 

3 Brutianus, Vell., Val. Max., Lact. 

‘ Metellianus, Schol. ἄτοπον. ad Cic. Caz. 4, 5, 10. 


102 ROBERT 5. RADFORD. 


nensts, Ptol. 2, 5, 6 Καικίλια Μετέλλινα (Miull.). Several Spanish 
place-names of a similar formation show that the suffix -zws in 
this use was at one time widely current in Spain. See the 
examples cited below under Caesarinus, and compare Ptol. 2, 6, 
27 Ὕδατα Kovivtwa (a Spanish locality). 

II. ForerGN NAmMEs.—The suffix -zas was felt to be especially 
applicable to personal names which were not purely Roman, but 
Greek or barbarian, and it apparently impressed on such forma- 
tions something of an exotic character. Thus from Aeacides is 
formed in Plaut. As. 405 Aeacidinae minae; Cic. Brut. 33, 127, 
N. D. 3, 30, 74 Lugurthina coniuratio,—lugurthinus first in 
Lucil. 11, 19 M., then Sall., Hor., Ov., Vell., ap. Quint. 8, 3, 29, 
Plin., Gell.; Cic. 422. 13, 45, τ Dtocharinae epistolae (i. e., 
addressed to Caesar’s freedman, Diochares); Fam. 9, 8, 1 Anti- 
ochinae partes (i. e., of Antiochus of Ascalon), but elsewhere, 
notably in the philosophical works, only the Greek adjective 
Antiochius, or \-eus, 6: ἃ. Att. 13, 12; 3. 25, 2, Ac. 2,20, 05. 50 
115, etc.; Phzl.11,7,17 Antiochinum bellum (i. e., with Antiochus 
Magnus; wrongly referred by Orelli, Onomast. Tull., and Georges 
to the city Antiochea), then Vell. 2, 39, 2, Gell. 4, 18, 7. 6, 19, 8 
(Hertz).—Except in the case of Diochares and that of Antiochus 
of Ascalon, Cicero employs the Greek adjectives in the Lef#fers, 
when he refers to the business relations of contemporary Greeks, 
6. g. Att. 6, 2, 12 Pammenius ; 4, 10, 2 Cyreus. 


From purely Roman names only the adjectives Plautinus and 
Verrinus remained fully current in the later language, and to each 
of these belongs a special history. /autimus occurs first in two 
passages of the prologues of Plautus, which are the addition ofa 
later hand, but belong to the second century B. αι: Pseud. pr. 2; 
Cas. pr. 12 Plautinas fabulas. In Varro’s time, however, as is 
evident from Gell. 3, 3, 10, usage wavered between the forms 
Plautinus and Plautianus. Hence Cicero apparently avoided 
this adjective; for he uses Plautinus only once, while Caeczlianus 
and Zerentianus occur frequently. Varro, however, in his guae- 
stiones Plautinae and in his treatise de comoediis Plautinis 
declared in favor of the form Plautinus, and, as we may see from 
Gellius’ account, he adduced in its support the same arguments 


1 Benseler, Wirterbuch der griech. eigennamen, also cites Μαρκελλινά, the 
name of a fort in Dardania, from Proc. Aedd. 4, 4 (281, 56); cf. Mapxiva, 
Strab. 5, 251. 


THE SUFFIXES -ANUS AND -INUS. 103 


which have been quoted above from the de lingua Latina. 
Hence it is to Varro alone that we owe the retention of the older 
form Plautinus. In like manner Cicero’s puns upon the name of 
Verres attracted an altogether disproportionate amount of notice 
from Quintilian and later Roman critics, and thus fixed in the 
usage of the grammarians the phrase ‘ orationes Verrinae.’ The 
possessive is, however, here formed less from the proper name 
than from the appellative.’ 

With two exceptions ( Verrinus and Diocharinus), the adjec- 
tives cited above are formed from o- and ἃ- stems. From consonant 
stems of the third declension formations in -imus are mentioned 
both by Varro and Priscian,’ though distinctly rejected by the 
former. Cicero has twice used this formation in the Leéters - 
Fam. 7, 25, τ vereor ne in catonium Cafoninos*® (‘I am afraid he 
will send us Catonians to join our hero below’);* “42. 16, 10,1 
Caesarina celeritas. The same form of the adjective is also 
preserved in the names of two Spanish colonies: Plin. 4, 117 
colonia Norbensis Caesarina cognomine (Detlef.), and cf. Hiibner 
C7L. 11, p. 81; CIL. IH, 694 colonia) Norb(ensis) Caesarin (a); 
Plin. 3, 11 Asido (colonia), quae Caesarina dicitur; CIL. II, 1315 
municipes Caesarini.—Of the competing formations those in 
-tanus from -6n-stems are admitted by Cicero, although very 
rarely, in the orations and philosophical works: Har. Resp. 
1, 2 Pisonianus; de Or. 2, 61, 248 Neronianus; Or. 49, 165 
Milonianus. 

Schnorr von Carolsfeld is mistaken (p. 184) in denying alto- 


1The same view is expressed by Wolfflin, 4ZZ. 1, 279.—There is no 
Roman gentile adjective Verrius corresponding to Verres, as Lewis and 
Short and Georges imply (De Vit only Verréus or -ius), The Greek 
adjective Verrius or -éus is found: Verr, 2, 2, 63, 154 Verria... Marcellia 
(‘the Verres festival’); 3, 49, 117 lege Hieronica... lege Verria. In both 
cases alike the inferior codices show the form Verrea, 

2 Gr. Lat.K. ΤΙ, 78, 13 ff. ‘Piso Pisonis Pisonianus’ quamvis quidam et 
‘Pisoninus’ et ‘Miloninus’ dici putaverunt....possumus tamen dicere, 
quod a ‘Caesarius’ et ‘Milonius’ et ‘ Pisonius’ derivatasint ‘Caesarianus,’ 
‘Milonianus,’ ‘ Pisonianus.’ Priscian’s argument for A/i/onianus rests on 
cogent grounds, e. g. Plautus forms from Ballio the adjective Aallionius 
(Pseud, 1064), the poets have Zunonius and similar forms, Catomius occurs 
as a cognomen Cic. Zp. ad Brut. τ, 2,3 (M), Sen., Tac.; Milonius, Hor. 
ah. 25\15)24, ete; 

3 Catonianus, Racilius ap. Οἷς, ad Q. Fr. 2, 6, 5, Sen., Mart., Dig. 

* Here belongs also Hor. Zf. 1, 18, 82 dente Theonino. 


104 ROBERTS. RADFORD. 


gether the use of Caesarianus in Cicero, for it is found AZZ. 
6, 8, 2 meros terrores Caesarianos. Elsewhere, notably in 
the Philippics, the careful avoidance of this adjective is most 
evident.?, In prescribing the formation ‘Sczpionarius’ from 
Scipio in the passage already cited (L. LZ. 9, 71), Varro shows 
little discrimination, and seems rather to have in mind the 
formation from the appellative, 6. g. scipionarius, ‘a dealer in 
staffs,’ as carbonarzus, ‘a dealer in charcoal.’* Yet the possessive 
signification of the suffix -arzus is distinctly recognized among 
its other uses by Priscian (Gr. Lat. K. II, 74 f.). lanuarius 
and Fedruarius fall under this head. Cf. also Plin. 3, 121 Car- 
bonaria ostia (Padi) (a popular formation). Olcott cites from 
the inscriptions /wnonarium, ‘shrine of Juno’ (CIL. XIV, 2867); 
cf. Afrarius (V1, 1620), Graecarius (XII, 3349), Hierosolymarius 
(Cic. Att, 2,9,1). The adjective Catilinarius, as Wolfflin has 
shown at length (AZZ. I, 277 ff.), is avoided by all classical 
writers, and occurs first in Priscian. 

The formations in -zmzs cited above are confirmed by external 
evidence, and are subject to little doubt. A very different ques- 
tion may next be considered. Inaddition to the regular adjective 
with the suffix -dus, was it also possible in the republican period 
to form from io- stems a less usual adjective with the suffix -zus? 
Such formations would naturally belong to a more archaic style, 
and could hardly be expected to occur outside of the Letters. 
Four such forms are actually transmitted in M: Asin. Poll. ad 
Fam. το, 33, 4 Hirtinus* (Hirtianus Cic. Fam. 9, 18, 3, Att. το, 
4, 11); Cass. ad Fam. 15, 19, 1 Catinus (Catianus Cic. Fam. 15, 
16,1); Cic. dé. τ, 16, 10 Marinus (with a punning reference to 


1 By the side of Caesarianus is found the adjective Caesareanus, formed 
from Caesareus: Sen. EZ. 95, 70, Scriptt. Hist. Aug. (the invariable form, 
except Spart. wit. Sev. 6, 9), and acc. to the best codd., Nep. A7z.7, 1, Flor. 
2, 13 (4, 2). 

*Att. 5,6, 2.10, 4 Caesaris nomen (with nomen, ‘debt,’ the adjective is 
the rule); 14, 13, 2 Caesarzs bello; Ep. ad. Brut. 2, 6, 2 animi partium 
Caesaris, cf, Asin. Poll. ad Fam, 10, 33,1; Phil. 1,7, τό. 42, 109, etc. acta 
Caesaris. 

3 On the commercial use of the suffix -ariws, see Olcott, Word Formation, 
p. 138 ff. 

* Of these forms only Airtinus and marinus are placed in the text by 
Wesenberg and Mendelssohn. 


THE SUFFIXES -ANUS AND -INUS. 105 


marinus) (Marianus Cic. Agr. 3, 2,7, de Or. 2, 66, 266, etc.); 16. 
10, 18, 1 Hortensinus (Hortensianus ib. 4, 6, 3). The possibility 
of such secondary formations on the analogy of place-names and 
of surnames cannot be absolutely denied, but in the absence of 
external evidence it seems perhaps more reasonable to regard 
these cases as due simply to mistakes of the copyist. 

After the first part of the Augustan period possessive adjectives 
were formed, in general, only with the suffix -zzzus, and without 
any limitations upon its use, except that, in the case of o- and 
a- stems, Sallust, Livy and Quintilian appear to have avoided the 
use of the improper formations. The popular forms, on the other 
hand, occur in the greatest abundance in Martial, Tacitus and 
Florus. The adjectival suffix -i2us had now become practically 
obsolete, and only the following examples of its use can be cited: 
Barcinus, Liv., Sidon., cf. the name of the Spanish city Barcino ; 
Sen.’ Suas. 4, 5 Fuscinae explicationes (i. e., of Arellius Fuscus) ; 
Mart. 5, 37, 2 Phalantinus Galaesus (of the legendary founder of 
Tarentum); cf. Plin. 3, 121 PAzlistina fossa (where, however, it 
is not clear that the adjective is personal rather than ethnic) ; 
Mart. Cap. 6, 577 sapis Midinum (= asininum); cf. orcinus 
Suet. Aug. 35, Dig. 26, 4, 3, 3; erinus Nemes., Aus.; CIL. III, 
3228 legionum [Glermaniciana[r(um)] [412 Britannicin(arum).’ 
From the name of Alexander Severus we find in Lampridius both 
forms of the adjective, A/exandrinus as well as Alexandrianus 
(the former apparently adopted by the emperor himself for the 
sake of the possible reference to Alexander the Great); e. g. 
Lampr. Sev. 26, 7 Alexandrina basilica ; ib. 25,7; Treb. Pol. Zyr. 
32, 3:-Lampr. Sev. 25, 3 agua, quae Alexandriana* nunc dicitur ; 
26. 40, 6, etc.; CIL. III, 797. 798 legio Alexandriana.* 

The preceding examples represent a very rare and exceptional 
use, and show clearly how little the scruples of the grammarians 


1But elsewhere Montanianus, Seianianus. 

*The cases do not belong here, in which a cognomen terminating in 
-inus is employed as an adjective without change of form, 6, g. Capitol. 
Ant. P, το, τ menses Antoninus atque Faustinus. 

3 Parallel to Agrippianus, Antoninianus, Severianus, etc. in the Scriptt. 
Hist. Aug., and in inscriptions. 

4 The manuscripts of Columella have Cestiza ma/a (5, 10, 19) according to 
Schneider. It may be doubted whether this form is correct, or is duetoa 
corruption of the Sestiana mala, which is read in Col. 12, 47, 5. 


106 ROBERT S. RADFORD. 


availed in the end to check the popular development of the 
language. A few of the cases cited above are later than the second 
century of our era, but the history of the personal suffix may 
properly conciude with the curious attempt by which Suetonius, 
in his character of grammarian and disciple of Varro, sought for 
the last time to revive its use on an extended scale. The popular 
formations in -zazus were, in Suetonius’ time, in universal use, 
and it was clearly impossible for the historian to change the 
familiar phrases which were everywhere current in the city and the 
camp, 6. g. Marcellianum theatrum, Variana clades, Augustiant 
(eguites), Germaniciani exercitus, Christiani (homines).’ Sueto- 
nius did not, however, scruple to change all less usual forms, and 
hence he shows us the following new formations: Claud. 11 
Augustinus® currus; de Gramm.17 Catulina*® domus ; Cal. 55 
Columbinum venenum,; Claud. 1 Drusinae* fossae; Galb. 3 
Viriathinum bellum. 

The differences in classical usage between the gentile adjective 
and the possessive admit of somewhat fuller statement than they 
have hitherto received. The essential distinction is clearly 
implied by Cornelius Fronto® (Gr. Lat. K. VII, 520): the gentile 
adjective is used of buildings which become public property, the 
possessive in -azzs is used only of property which passes from 
one private owner to another. This usage shows clearly the 
importance of the ancient gezs and the character of the Roman 
system, in which the individual was subordinated to the gezs, and 
the gezs subordinated to the state. Hence all public works and 
buildings completed by its single members are viewed as the 


1Cf. also from consonant stems Caesarianus, Gelotianus, Maecenatianus, 
Neronianus, Pisonianus. 
2Augustiani Tac., Suet.; Augustanus Plin., Ulp., Dig., Inscrr. 


3 Catulianus Plin. 34, 77 Detlefsen; Cicero has only the genitive, as “4721. 
4, 5, 2 vzllam, quae Catuli fuerat; Q. Fr. 3,1, 4, Att. 4, 2, 4. 5, Dom. 44, 116 
Catuli porticus. 

4 Drusianus Cic., Flor., Inscrr., Dio Cass.; Drusiana fossa Tac. A. 2, 8. 

5 Pompei porticus et Pompeia et Pompeiana. Pompei, si possidet; 
Pompeia, si publicavit; Pompeiana, si in alterius dominationem venit. If 
the Anonymus in J, W. Beck, de differentiarum scriptoribus Latinis, p. 73, 
states; Octavia porticus est, si privata fuerit ; Octaviana porticus dicitur, 
si publica facta fuerit, the text is clearly corrupt and the correction 
obvious. The distinction which Fronto seeks to make between the genitive 
and the use of the adjective is of much less value. 


THE SUFFIXES -ANUS AND -INUS. 107 


monumenta of the gens’; they bear officially no distinctive per- 
sonal designation, but only the common gentile name, and this 
usage is continued long after the introduction of the cognomen 
as a more distinctive name, and after the formation of possessive 
adjectives referring to single individuals within the gens. Apart 
from the commercial use, only that kind of possession which 
belongs to the military or the party leader, the jurisconsult, or the 
author is expressed in the classical language by the adjective in 
-anus, e.g. milites Sertoriant (Cic. Verr. 2, 5, 28, 72), homines 
Sullani (ad O. Fr. τ, τ, 21), tudicium Lunianum (Clu. τ, 1), tlle 
Terentianus Phormio ( Caec. 8, 27). 

The use of the gentile adjective may be classified under three 
leading heads, viz., referring to the gevs itself, to laws and public 
works, to place-names and natural objects. The use with gens 
and its synonyms (domus, stirps, familia, nomen, etc.), with lex 
and vogatzo, and with the names of the public roads is too well 
known to require ‘illustration. In relation to the public works 
and buildings, the most familiar examples are afforded by the 
various basilicas, porticoes, senate-houses, fora, aqueducts, gates, 
bridges, colonies, etc., e.g. the baszlicae Aemilia, Aemilia et 
Fulvia, Asinia, lulia, Opimia, Porcia, Sempronia, etc.; porticus 
Claudia, Flaminia, Minucia, Octavia, Pompeia, Vipsania, ete.; 
curiae Acculeia, Hostilia, Iulia, Pompeia, etc.; fora Augustum, 
lulium, Ulpium, etc.; aguae Appia, Augusta, Claudia, Lulia, 
Marcia; portae Minucia, Naevia, etc.; pontes Aemilius, Fabricius, 
Minucius, Mulvius, etc.; coloniae Augusta, Tulia, Flavia, Pom- 
peia,etc.? Examples in Cicero of public buildings and monuments 
in addition to those already named are as follows: Quznct. 3, 12. 
6, 25 atria Licinia ; Cael. 25,61. 62 balneae Seniae; Att. 1, 14,1, 
Sest. 14, 33, etc, cirvcus Flaminius; Div.in Caec. 16, 50, Sest. 
58, 124 columna Maenia; Clu. 34, 93, Flac. 28, 66 gradus 
Aurelii; Plane. 7, 17 fornix Fabius; Quinct. 6, 25 tabula 
Sextia; Fam. 14, 2, 2, Vat. 9, 21 tabula Valeria; Sest. 15, 34, 


1Cf. Tac. A. 3, 72 basilica Pauli, Aemilia monumenta; Val. Max. 4, 4, 8 
Maria monumenta (where Kempf appears to follow the inferior codd. in 
reading Mariana), 

*In the forms which have no corresponding gentile adjective in use, the 
genitive is always employed by Cicero, and often by later writers, e. g. 
Cic. Dom. 44, 116, Aft. 4, 2, 4. 5. 3, 2 porticus Catuli ; Dom. 38, 101, Liv. 
8, 19, 4 prata Vacci; Tac. A. 3, 72, Plin. 36, 102 dasilica Pauli. 


108 ROBERT S. RADFORD. 


Pis. 5, 11 tribunal Aurelium. Similar examples from other 
authors are the following: Liv. 39, 44, 7 atria Maentum et 
Titium ; Vop. Aur.1, 7.8, 1 bzbliotheca Ulpia, Plin. 36, 122 
Vous Curtis; |) Liv), 23, 3:\2, 30,15 fossa Οὔ τα οἱ Phin 3,221 
fossa Clodia; Hor. C. 4, 12, 18 horrea Sulpicia,; Fest. p. 290 
M. horrea Sempronia ; Suet. Aug.16 portus Lulius ; Fest. p. 363 
M. scalae Targuitiae ; Mart. 9, 3, 12 templa Flavia ; Tac. H.5, 11 
turris Antonia; Paul. exc. Fest. p. 131 M. turris Mamilia. 

The popular language early disregarded the distinction between 
public and private ownership, and introduced the possessive 
adjectives into the names of many of the public monuments. 
This use is carefully avoided by Cicero, but from the Augustan 
period on becomes more frequent in literature, and is especially 
characteristic of writers who represent the popular speech (Vitruv., 
Scriptt. Hist. Aug., Inscrr.) It is especially noteworthy that in 
several cases where the ges was comparatively obscure and some 
single member universally known, the gentile adjective goes 
almost entirely out of use (Marius, Pompeius). Cicero shows 
but a single case of wavering usage: Verr.1, 7, 19 fornix Fabi- 
anus. This was undoubtedly the name of popular speech: Sen. 
Dial. 2,1, 3, Treb. Pol. Gall.19, 4 arcus Fabianus; cf. Front. 
Ag. 1, 20 arcus Neronianus. The ancient and more correct 
form, Fabius fornix, is found Cic. Planc. 7, 17, Quintil. 6, 3, 67." 
A real exception is scarcely to be recognized in the ¢ud/ianum, the 
“‘well-house”’ associated by popular etymology with the name of 
Servius Tullius; for here it was obviously not possible to use the 
neuter of the gentile adjective alone as a substantive. An 
undoubted departure, however, from earlier usage is afforded at 
the close of the Republic by ‘theatrum Pompeianum’ (Plin., 
Mart., Tac., Suet.), a use which stands in marked contrast to 
‘circus Flaminius. The reason for this innovation plainly lies 
in the fact that the adjective of the political faction and of the 
camp (Pompezanus) was at this time far more in evidence than 
the ancient gentile formation (Pompezus). Hence the ancient 
form has disappeared wholly from the literature, and is preserved 
only in the official language of Augustus: Mon. Anc. 20 Pompeium 
theatrum refeci. Upon the analogy of ‘ Pompeianum theatrum’ 


1In a quotation from Οἷς, de Or. 2, 66, 267, where the manuscripts and 
editors are divided between 7. Fadianus and f. Fadzi (Sorof, after L, Fadzz). 


THE SUFFIXES -ANUS AND -INUS. 109 


later writers allow themselves to employ also Pompetana curia' 
(Suet. Caes. 81), Pompeiana porticus (Vitruv. 5, 9, 1), in place of 
the classical and well attested Pompeia curia (Cic. Div. 2, 9, 23; 
Gell. 14, 7,7), Pompeia porticus (Prop. 3, 30, 1, Plin. 35, 114). 
Other examples of this use of the possessives are as follows: 
Vitruv. 5, 1, 4 dasilica Llulia et Aquiliana;? CIL. XIV, 140 
porticus Placidiana ; Vop. Aur. 41, 3 curia Pompiliana ; Vitruv. 
3, I, 5, Val. Max. 1, 7, 5 Mariana aedis Honoris, Iovis; Mel. 2, 
78 Mariana fossa; id. 2, 122, Plin. 3, 80, Ptol. 3, 2, 5 Mariana 
colonia; Val. Max. 2, 5, 6 Mariana monumenta, but 7d. 4, 48 
Maria monumenta, according to the best codd. Under the empire 
possessive adjectives were also freely formed from praenomina 
and cognomina, and in these cases were necessarily the only 
adjectival forms in use, 6. g. theatrum Marcellianum* (Martt., 
Suet.), fossae Drusianae (Tac.), thermae Neronianae (Matt.), 
Titianae* (Capitol. Max. 1, 4), Severianae (Spart.), legiones 
Antoninianae, Maximinianae (as purely honorary titles and 
parallel with legio Claudia, Flavia: Scriptt. Hist. Aug., Inscrr.). 
It is perhaps in opposition to ‘thermae Titianae’ that Gellius 
writes dalneae Titiae (3, 1,1 Hertz).* In any case, the effect of 
these formations was necessarily felt in obscuring the sharp dis- 
tinction between the possessive and the gentile adjective. 

In the classical language the gentile adjective is the rule also 
with localities and natural objects which bear historical or com- 
memorative names. Instances occur most frequently with Forum, 
mons, stlva, etc., e.g. Fora Aurelium, Cornelium, lulium, lunium, 
etc.; montes Augustus, Caelius, Cassius, Cispius, Claudius, Coe- 
lius, Herminius, Oppius, Pincius, Tarpeius, etc., cf. clivus 
Publicius ; silvae Caesia, Maesia, Naevia, Scantia, etc. Other 
examples of this use are as follows: Varr. L. L. 5, 154 campus 
Flaminius; Plin. 29, 12 compitum Acilium; Varr. L. L.5, 148, 
Liv. 7, 6, 5 dacus Curtius ; Hor. A. P. 32 ludus Aemilius ; Varr. 
L. L.5, 163 nemora Naevia,; Liv. 1, 26, 10, Prop. 4 (3), 3, 7 pala 


1 Also the genitive, porticus or curia Pompei: Οἷς, Fat. 4, ὃ, Suet. Caes. 
80. 84, Plin. 35, 126. 

* Compare Vitruvius’ use of medianus for medius (Schnorr von Carols- 
feld, 7, 7. p. 188). 

3’ Mon. Anc, app. 2 Marcelli, and often later. 

4 Martial has only the genitive 7721, as 3, 20, 15, etc. 

5 But both form and reference are uncertain (codd., s¢i¢éas or sticias). 


110 ROBERT 5. RADFORD. 


Floratia ; Liv. 3, 54, 15. 63, 7 prata Flaminia ; id.2, 13, 5 prata 
Mucia; id. 3, 26, 8, Plin. 18, 20, Paul. exc. Fest. p. 256 M. 
prata Ouinctia,; Liv. 6, 20,12 saxum Tarpeium; Lampr. Heliog. 
17 vicus Sulpicius. Here also the popular language early intro- 
duced the use of the possessives, and such expressions often 
became the names in actual use in the provinces; hence they are 
frequently found in the literature, chiefly from the Augustan 
period. Thus the site on the African coast where the elder Scipio 
had made his camp was regularly designated as castra Cornelia 
(Blin. 5; 24:(20, ΜῈ]. τὸ ears Gaes:0B. Ga 27,2. eb 
Plin. 4, 117 ¢. Servilia, c. Caecilia), but the sermo castrensis, not 
distinguishing in this case between historical and contemporary 
names, preferred the possessive form, castra Corneliana (Caes. 
B. C. 2, 24, 2. 25,6),' castra Claudiana (Liv. 23, 31, 3. 39, 8, etc.); 
cf. Ptol. 2, 5, 6 sq. Λικινίανα, Μανλίανα, etc. (names of Spanish towns 
with which casfva is to be supplied). Similarly Servvilius lacus 
(Cic. Rose. Am. 32, 89, Fest. p. 290 M.) is the ancient name of the 
locality at Rome, but we find later also Sevvilianus lacus (Sen. 
Dial. 1, 3,7); soalso Mel. 2, 89 P. Clodianum flumen, cf. Ptol. 
2,6, 19. Livy has saltus Marcius (39, 20, 10), but saltus Manh- 
anus (40, 39, 2). We find as place-names aguae Sextiae (Vell., 
Plin.), a. Scantiae (Plin. 2, 240), but a. Postdianae (Plin. 31, 5), 
a. Persianae (Apul. Flor. 3, 16, p. 353, 5 H.); αγαε Muciae (Plin. 
2, 211), but avae Sestianae (id. 4, 111). 

Finally, in the personal names given to varieties of cultivated 
plants and fruit-trees, the usage appears to have never become 
absolutely fixed. In such cases the possessive is much more 
usual, as is to be expected in the popular language, but Pliny and 
Columella employ the older form also very freely. Cato uses 
only the possessives, e.g. oleae Sergiana, Colminiana, Liciniana 
(&. R. 6, 1 sq.); Varro has the same forms, with the exception of 
Colminia for Colminiana (R. R. 1, 24, 1); cf. Plin. 15, 13 oltvae 
Licinia, Cominia, Contia, Sergia, and 1b. 20 olivae Sergiana, 
Cominiana. A typical passage is Col. 5, 8,3 oleae Algiana, 
Liciniana, Sergia, Naevia, Culminia. The manufactured product 
is almost always the possessive, as Plin. 15, ὃ oleum Licinianum ; 
so always the names of condiments and perfumes in Martial 
(Cosmianum, Capellianum, etc.). 


1 Hence there is no need, with Meusel and Hofmann, to correct to castra 
Cornelia. 


THE SUFFIXES -ANUS AND -INUS. III 


These results lend probability to the conclusion that the pos- 
sessive adjectives in -azzs are later’ formations of the language, 
and that the gentile adjectives originally possessed a much 
broader, perhaps a wholly unrestricted use. This older usage 
was always retained in the ritualistic language, in the poets and 
in the authors of archaic tendencies (Varr. L. ZL. 5, 85, Tac. A. 
1, 54 sodales Titit; Ov. Pont. 4, 5, 9 domus Pompeia; CIL. 
XIV, 3911 (carmen) Aelia villa; Gell. 9, 13, 20 H. zmperia 


Manilia). 
Bryn Mawr COot.Lece. ROBERT S. RADFORD. 


1 For examples of the extension of the suffix -azuws in adjectives, see 
Schnorr von Carolsfeld, 7. Δ, p. 188. To these may be added Lucanus, 
Venafranus, Africanus, Vetentanus, Praetutianus, etc. as the later forms of 
Lucus (Naev., Enn., Lucr., Varr.), Venafer (Cato, Varr.), Africus (Enn., 
Scip. Afr. ap. Gell. 4, 18, 3, etc.), Vetens, Praetutius. Compare also 
Picentinus (Sall., Mart.) for Picens, Literninus (Cic., Liv., Plin.) for 
Liternus. 


ἌΝ 
ont ᾿ ἢ 
na 


ea 
} 





ΠΕ FALL OF THE ASSYRIAN) EMPIRE: 


On the death, in 626 B.c., of Ashurbanipal (Sardanapallus), 
king of Assyria, his son Ashur-etil-ilani succeeded to a troubled 
inheritance. A little more than twenty years before, Shamash- 
shum-ukin, king of Babylon, the brother of Ashurbanipal, had 
endeavored to free himself from Assyrian control, to unite 
Babylonia under his sway, and thus to establish an independent 
kingdom with Babylon as its capital. To this end he incited to 
revolt the dependencies of Assyria and sought the aid of her 
enemies, his main reliance being placed in the neighboring king- 
dom of Elam. This formidable danger was overcome by the 
policy of Ashurbanipal and the ability of his generals. The 
rebellion was crushed, the allies defeated, and Shamash-shum- 
ukin, besieged in Babylon and driven to the last extremity, cast 
himself into the flames rather than fall into the hands of his 
brother. It is doubtless this tragic circumstance, well vouched 
for by the annals of Ashurbanipal (col. IV, Il. 50 ff.), that has 
given rise to the well-known story of the fate of the last king of 
Assyria. In 647, the year following the death of Shamash-shum- 
ukin, Ashurbanipal had himself crowned king of Babylon under 
the name of Kandalfnu,' a measure intended to soothe the some- 
what susceptible feelings of the Babylonians who could ill brook 
the degradation of the holy city to the position of a mere appanage 
of a foreign power. In this the king followed the example of his 
predecessors Tiglathpileser 11 and Shalmaneser IV. The kingdom 
of Elam was now destroyed; its capital, Susa, was sacked; its 
remaining cities were ravaged, and the whole country left defence- 
less. But although Assyria came out of the contest with success, her 
success wasacostly one. The struggle had taxed the resources of 
the empire to the utmost, and the destruction of Elam removed 
a strong bulwark against the growing power of the Aryan Medes 
whose scattered communities were rapidly consolidating into a 


1 The Kineladan of the Ptolemaic canon. See Schrader, Atzeladan und 
Asurbanipal, in Zeits. fiir Keils., 11, 222 ff. 
8 


114 CHRISTOPHER JOHNSTON. 


united and aggressive state. At the end of Ashurbanipal’s reign 
they constituted a formidable menace to the security of the Assy- 
rian empire. Nor were the Medes, whose migration into Asia 
was at least as early as the ninth century B.C., the only Aryan 
people who now came in contact with the Semitic rulers of 
Western Asia. In the reign of Sargon (722-705 B. C.) new swarms 
of barbarians appear in the North. Chief among these were the 
Gimirra or Kimmerians, at that time seated in the neighborhood 
of Lake Van to the north of the Armenian kingdom of Urartu, 
and, further east, around Lake Urumiah and along the northern 
borders of Media, the Ashguza or Ishkuz4 who, as Winckler has 
shown, must be identified with the people called Scythians by 
the classical writers.” 

In the reign of Esarhaddon (680-668 8. c.), the Kimmerians 
driven from their settlements by the Scythians, moved westward 
overrunning Phrygia and the north-western provinces of Assyria, 
though Esarhaddon was able to divert their attack from Meso- 
potamia and Syria. In the reign of Ashurbanipal (668-626 8. C.), 
they invaded Lydia and took its capital Sardes, but here their 
course was checked, and soon after they were expelled from Asia 
Minor by the Scythians who pursued them, ravaging the country 
on all sides, as far as Palestine and the frontier of Egypt. The 
hostility between the Kimmerians and the Scythians was un- 
doubtedly fomented by Assyria, whose obvious policy it was to 
play off one against the other. Esarhaddon, one of the shrewdest 
statesmen that ever sat upon the throne of Assyria, seems to have 
formed an alliance with the Scythian king Bartatua, the Proto- 
thyes of Herodotus,’ and to have cemented it by giving him his 
daughter in marriage. At all events, it is certain that Esarhaddon 
formally consulted the oracle of the Sun god as to whether, in 
case this marriage should take place, Bartatua would prove a 
loyal friend of Assyria (Knudtzon, Gebete an den Sonnengott, 
No. 29), and, from this time to the fall of Nineveh, friendly rela- 
tions appear to have been maintained between Assyria and her 
Scythian neighbors. 


1 Winckler, Zur medischen und alipersischen Geschichte, Untersuchungen 
109 ff.; Billerbeck-Jeremias, Der Untergang Ninevehs, Beitr. zur Assyr., 
i an 

2 Winckler, Kimmerier, Aiguzder, Scythen, in Forschungen V1, 484 ff. 

3 Winckler, Forschungen VI, 488. 


THE FALL OF THE ASSYRIAN EMPIRE. IIs 


In Syria, where Ashurbanipal had been obliged to put down 
some sporadic revolts, the great Kimmerian and Scythian invasion, 
occurring towards the end of his reign, must have thoroughly 
disorganized the country. Egypt, which for a brief period under 
Esarhaddon and Ashurbanipal had been reduced to the condition 
of an Assyrian province, gained her independence about 645 8. C., 
and her energetic ruler, Psamtik I, cherished the ambition of 
regaining the long lost Asiatic possessions of his remote predeces- 
sors. Such then, at the death of Ashurbanipal and the accession 
of his son Ashur-etil-ilani, was the situation of affairs. The 
Assyrian empire still extended from the Persian Gulf to the 
Mediterranean, but to the West, Syria disorganized by recent 
events was ready to fall a prey to Egypt at the first favorable 
opportunity. To the North, the Scythians held full sway and, 
though for the time being friendly to Assyria, they were too 
powerful to be altogether comfortable neighbors. To the East, 
the Medes, enemies both of Assyria and of the Scythians, were 
pushing westward to the frontier of Assyria and southward into 
the defenceless land of Elam. 

Of the reign of Ashur-etil-ilani little is known. A brief inscrip- 
tion found in the south-east palace of Nimrfid (Kelach) gives 
his genealogy and states that he caused bricks to be made for 
building the temple of Ezida in Kelach (Schrader’s Kezlinschr. 
Bibliothek, ii, 268). Another inscription (7zdzd. iv, 156) is badly 
mutilated and gives no additional information. Contract tablets, 
found by the American expedition, are dated at Nippur in the 
second and fourth years of the reign of this king’ so that he 
must have ruled both in Assyria and Babylonia until at least the 
year 622 B.C. It is probable that he died soon after this date. 
He had a daughter, Sheru’a-eterat, whose letter to the lady 
Asshur-sharrat, in regard to a point of etiquette’ affords an 
interesting glimpse of Assyrian court life, but there is no evidence 
that he hadason. One event, however, of the utmost importance 
is known to have occurred in his reign, and this was the accession 
of the Chaldean Nabopolassar as king of Babylon. According 
to the Ptolemaic canon, Nabopolassar succeeded Kandalanu 


1 Hilprecht, Kedlinsehriftliche Funde in Niffer, Zetts. fiir Assyr., iv, 
164 ff. 

2 $ohns Hopkins University Circulars, June, 1896, pp. 91 ff.; Fourn. Am. 
Or. Soc., XX; 244 ff. 


116 CHRISTOPHER JOHNSTON. 


(=Ashurbanipal) in 626 B. c. and reigned for twenty-one years, 
and this is amply confirmed by a series of Babylonian contract 
tablets dated up to the twenty-first year of his reign. To which 
of the Chaldean tribes he belonged is unknown, as also the cir- 
cumstances attending his accession. Abydenus has preserved a 
tradition that Saracus, who succeeded Sardanapallus as king of 
Assyria, learning that an army numerous as locusts was coming 
from the sea to attack his dominions, sent his general, Busalos- 
sorus, to Babylon. Whereupon the latter, throwing off his 
allegiance, and securing an alliance by marrying his son 
Nebuchadnezzar to Amuhea, daughter of Ashdahak, Prince 
of the Medes, forthwith marched upon Nineveh. Saracus, 
informed of this, burnt himself in his royal palace (Miiller- 
Didot, Fragmenta Hist. Graec., iv, p. 282). The ultimate 
source of this story seems to have been Ktesias* and it is 
therefore suspicious, yet it may embody a genuine tradition.’ 
As the brief rule of Ashur-etil-ilani was apparently unknown to 
classical writers, it is not remarkable that events should be referred 
to the reign of Saracus (Sin-shar-ishkun) which really occurred 
in that of his predecessor. The account of the army coming 
against Babylon from the sea may well refer to a movement on 
the part of the Chaldeans, who saw in the death of Ashurbanipal 
(Sardanapallus) a favorable opportunity for reasserting their 
ancient claims. That Nabopolassar may have held a position of 
authority and made use of it to place himself at the head and reap 
the fruits of such a movement, is by no means improbable. And 
although he did not take part directly in the destruction of 
Nineveh, it is certain that the monarchy he established was 
essentially Chaldean in character, and that he subsequently acted 
with the Medes against Assyria. The marriage of his son 
Nebuchadnezzar with a Median princess, while not impossible, is 
at least open to doubt. 

Ashur-etil-ilani was succeeded by his brother Sin-shar-ishkun 
the Saracus of classical writers. Sin-shar-ishkun’s descent from 
Esarhaddon is set forth in a fragment ingeniously restored by 
Winckler (Revue d’ Assyr., vol. 11, 1889, p. 67), and in a mutilated 
tablet, apparently containing a grant of land, published by Father 
Scheil in 1896 (Zezts. fiir Assyr., xi, 47), he is called the son of Ash- 


1 Winckler, Forschungen 11, 172 ff. 2 Cf. Schrader in ΖΑ ii, 228. 


THE FALL OF THE ASSYRIAN EMPIRE. 117 


urbanipal. Portions of several inscriptions of Sin-shar-ishkun have 
been found, but all are either badly mutilated or merely fragmen- 
tary. The longest of these inscriptions, of which a transliteration 
and translation are given by Winckler in Schrader’s Kezlin- 
schriftliche Bibliothek (ii, 270-273), refers to the building ofa tem- 
ple, and is dated in the eponymy of a certain Daddi the vizier, 
but as the eponym canon is incomplete there is no means of 
determining the precise date. In this inscription, as also in a 
fragment published by Winckler in Revue d’ Assyriologie (ii, 67), 
the king refers to wars in which he claims that the Assyrian 
arms were successful. The gods, he says, “subdued his foes, 
overthrew his adversaries” (XB, ii, 270, 1. 7); and again, “I 
revered the great gods, I frequented their temples, I prayed to 
their majesty. They stood by my side, rendered me gracious 
help, championed my cause, and subdued my foes. They bound 
fast my adversaries, and laid low the foes of Assyria who obeyed 
not my royal will” (Rev. d’ Assyr., ii, 67). Winckler is inclined to 
restore JZa-da|-d, ‘the Medes’ in line 2, but it is evident that 244]- ἃ 
‘at my side,’ must be read here. However, as Mount Demavend 
(sad Biknz) is mentioned in another fragment (K, 1654), it is 
possible that Sin-shar-ishkun actually refers to a war with the 
Medes and that, as Winckler suggests, Herodotus’ account (I, 102) 
of Phraortes’ unsuccessful attack upon Nineveh may rest upon a 
historic basis. Two contract tablets are dated at Sippara in the 
second year of “‘ Sin-shar-ishkun King of Assyria”’, and another 
is dated at Erech in the seventh year of his reign, so that in 615 
B. C., or later, he still ruled in Babylonia. 

Prof. R. F. Harper’s Assyrian Letters contains (No. 469) a 
communication from the people of Erech to the king, in which 
they state that a dispute about certain lands had been decided in 
their favor by “thy father Ashurbanipal ” (rev. 1; cf. obv. 12). 
This must, of course, have been addressed either to Ashur-etil- 
ilani or to his brother Sin-shar-ishkun. As late therefore as the 
year 615 B.C., and probably somewhat later, since the precise 
duration of Ashur-etil-il4ni’s reign is not known, there is no evi- 
dence that Nabopolassar held dominion anywhere except in the 
city of Babylon and the district immediately adjoining, while 
there is positive evidence that parts, if not the whole, of Babylonia 


1 Keil. Bibliothek, iv, 174-176. 


118 CHRISTOPHER JOHNSTON. 


were still held by Assyria. At some time before the year 611 
B. C., the situation must have changed, since a contract tablet 
dated at Sippara, in the fifteenth year of Nabopolassar, king of 
Babylon, indicates that he then had possession of northern Baby- 
lonia. He seems about the same time to have gone further and 
to have made a successful invasion into the Mesopotamian 
possessions of Assyria. Three inscriptions of Nabopolassar are 
known, all belonging to the latter part ofhis reign. In one ofthese 
(Kezl. Bid. iii’, 6) he states that he connected Sippara with the 
Euphrates by means of a canal, and this could only have been 
done at a time when the city was actually under his authority. 
The fact that, in this brief inscription, he styles himself simply 
Sar Babili “King of Babylon” and not king of Sumer and 
Akkad should not be pressed too far, since his son Nebuchad- 
nezzar, who undoubtedly ruled over all Babylonia, employs the 
same title in several of his shorter inscriptions. Another inscrip- 
tion of Nabopolassar (Kez. Bibl. iii?, 8; Beitr. zur Assyr. iii, 
528) relates to his restoration of the temple of Belit at Sippara, 
and contains a distinct reference to his military operations: 
“When Shamash, the great lord, marched by my side, subdued 
my enemies, and turned the country of my adversaries to pasture 
land and heaps of ruins, then for Belit of Sippara, the exalted 
lady, my queen, I built anew E-edina, her abode, and made it 
shine like the day”’ (col. I, 2o—col. II, το). In another inscription 
(Keil. Bibl. iii®, 2; Bettr. zur Assyr. iii, 525) the reference is 
more definite: ‘“‘ When, at command of Nabfi and Marduk, who 
love my sovereignty, and through the mighty weapon of the 
terrible god Girra who smites down my enemies with the thunder- 
bolt, I subdued Subaru and reduced that land to pasture field and 
ruin,” (col. I, 21-29)—the king then goes on to describe the 
building of the great temple tower of Babylon and its dedication 
with imposing ceremonies in which his sons Nebuchadnezzar and 
Nabfi-shum-lishir took part. In the last two inscriptions Nabo- 
polassar calls himself King of Sumer and Akkad, and therefore 
claims sovereignty over all Babylonia. Subaru, of whose conquest 
Nabopolassar boasts, was a district of northern Mesopotamia,’ and 
in this connection it is significant that a contract tablet exists 
dated at Babylon in the seventeenth year of Nabopolassar Sar 


1 Winckler, Forschungen II, 153 ff. 


THE FALL OF THE ASSYRIAN EMPIRE. 119 


Kissati ‘ King of the world’,' so that in 609 B. 6. he bore the title 
which, according to Winckler, pertained specially to the ancient 
Mesopotamian kingdom whose capital was Harran. This rapid 
extension of the dominions of Nabopolassar argues at least a 
temporary helplessness on the part of Assyria, and would seem to 
have coincided with the events described in Herodotus I, 103-106. 
The Greek historian states that the Median King Cyaxares, 
after thoroughly organizing his army, invaded Assyria and, 
defeating the Assyrians in the field, had actually invested 
Nineveh when the siege was raised by an army under command 
of Madyes, son of Protothyes, King of the Scythians. By means 
of a stratagem Cyaxares and his Medes got the better of these 
fresh opponents, after which they captured Nineveh and subdued 
Assyria with the exception of Babylonia. The story of Cyaxares’ 
stratagem is not very probable, but the essential features of 
Herodotus’ account are borne out by all the known facts in the 
case.” Protothyes (Bartatua) was in all probability the son-in-law 
of Esarhaddon, and therefore it is not unlikely that his son Madyes 
was the nephew of Ashurbanipal and the cousin of Sin-shar-ishkun, 
and from the time of Esarhaddon there is no evidence that other 
than friendly relations existed between Assyria and the Scythians. 
In any event Madyes could hardly have viewed with complacency 
the aggrandizement of his Median enemies and their absorption 
of the fairest portions of Western Asia. The intervention of the 
Scythian king at this juncture was, in fact, a political necessity. 
At first he was successful and the Medes were forced to raise the 
siege and retire to their own territory. The relief of Nineveh, 
which probably occurred in the year 610, and the diversion of the 
Median attack afforded Sin-shar-ishkun an opportunity which he 
was prompt to utilize, and he seems to have made a vigorous 
effort to drive Nabopolassar out of Mesopotamia and to recover 
the territory he had occupied in that quarter. Such, even then, 
was the prestige of the Assyrian arms that many cities of 
Babylonia either were lukewarm to the cause of Nabopolassar, or 
openly sided with Assyria. The Babylonian monarch, deprived 
of the Median support he had hitherto enjoyed, hard pressed in 
Mesopotamia by the Assyrians, and attacked at home by the 


1 Published by Strassmaier, Zezts. fiir Assyr. iv, 143-144. 
2Cf. Winckler, Horschungen VI, 490. 


120 CHRISTOPHER JOHNSTON. 


disaffected Babylonian cities aided doubtless by Assyrian troops, 
now found himself in a situation all but desperate. Had Sin-shar- 
ishkun at this crisis been left unhindered in other directions, there 
can be little doubt that he would have crushed his Chaldean 
opponent and restored, in some measure at least, the ancient 
glories of Assyria. But fate was against him, and his success was 
of brief duration. The Medes, having signally defeated the 
Scythian forces, now returned to the attack. They swept over 
Assyria ravaging and burning in every direction, and Nineveh 
was once more besieged. 

The stele of Nabonidus' found by the German expedition at 
Babylon, which contains the only cuneiform account of the fall of 
Assyria at present known, thus depicts the scene (col. II): “He 
(the god Marduk) gave him (Nabopolassar) a helper, granted 
him anally. The king of the Ummanmanda, whom none could 
withstand, he made submissive to his (divine) command and 
brought him to his aid. Above and below, right and left, like a 
storm he overwhelmed the land, taking vengeance for Babylon 
in full measure. The king of the Ummanmanda, knowing no 
fear, destroyed all the temples of the gods of Assyria, while, as 
for those cities of Babylonia which were hostile to the king of 
Babylon or came not to his aid, he destroyed their sanctuaries, 
leaving not one; like a storm he utterly laid waste their cities. 
The king of Babylon, at the command of Marduk to whom sacri- 
lege is an abomination, laid no hand on the shrines of the gods.” 
According to Nabonidus, therefore, Nabopolassar left the work 
of destruction to the Medes and took no part in it himself. 

In the same inscription (col. X, 13 ff.) Nabonidus states that he 
restored the temple of Sin in Harran which had been destroyed 
by the Ummanmanda and lay in ruins for fifty-four years. Inthe 
Abu-Habba inscription (Kez/. B67. iii’, 96 ff.) he states that the 
restoration of this temple was undertaken at the beginning of his 
third year. In 608, therefore, or 607—the former being the more 
probable date—Mesopotamia was invaded and Harran was de- 
stroyed by the Medes.’ The relief of Nabopolassar from his 


1 Messerschmidt, Die Juschrift der Stele Nabun@ids Kénigs von Babylon, 
Mittheilungen der Vorderasiatischen Gesellschaft, 1896, τ. 

2 Here, as elsewhere, Nabonidus uses Ummanmanda in the general 
sense of Northern barbarians. See Winckler’s note, Messerschmidt, ὁ. c. 
p- 71. 


THE FALL OF THE ASSYRIAN EMPIRE. 121 


perilous predicament and the chastisement of the disaffected 
Babylonian cities were doubtless effected at the same time. It is 
possible, as Messerschmidt suggests (0. ¢., p. 14), that Nabopo- 
lassar was in the neighborhood of Harran and that this movement 
of the Medes was undertaken in his behalf, but it may be ex- 
plained on other grounds. Nineveh, the objective point of the 
Median attack, lay close upon the Tigris, and from the western 
bank of the river ran the highways communicating with the fertile 
plains of Mesopotamia whence both troops and supplies could be 
drawn. Itisnot necessary to suppose that, from the first, the whole 
military strength of the Assyrian empire was massed within the 
walls of Nineveh. It is more than probable that strong bodies of 
Assyrian troops controlled the country beyond the Tigris, of whose 
strategical importance Sin-shar-ishkun was well aware. Indeed, 
it is hardly likely that the troops which had been operating in this 
quarter against Nabopolassar had as yet been withdrawn. The 
Babylonian cities on the Assyrian frontier could also render 
effective aid if so disposed, and their recent antagonism to Nabo- 
polassar gave them little choice as to how they should side. So 
long as the country beyond the Tigris held out for Assyria, the 
reduction of Nineveh was a well nigh hopeless task. It was 
necessary, therefore, that this district should be rendered useless 
both as a source of supplies and as a base of military operations. 
This seems to have been effected by dispatching strong detach- 
ments to thoroughly ravage the country, destroy all opposing 
forces, and render harmless the frontier cities of Babylonia. 
Their object accomplished, the Median detachments could rejoin 
their main body before Nineveh, leaving to Nabopolassar the easy 
task of holding the devastated district in subjection. 

When the Medes, after reducing Assyria east of the Tigris, 
proceeded to dispossess their Scythian neighbors and to extend 
their dominions in Asia Minor,’ Mesopotamia was left to Nabo- 
polassar and the wily Chaldean thus enjoyed the fruits of a 
vicarious victory. 

Nineveh was now cut off from outside aid, but behind her 
strong fortifications her garrison could still offer a stubborn 
resistance. When at length the Medes prevailed and the city 
fell, all was not yet lost. A strong line of defences connected 


1 Winckler, Horschungen VI, 49; Herodotus, I, 103. 


122 CHRISTOPHER JOHNSTON. 


Nineveh with Kelach, a fortress little inferior to the fallen capital in 
strength, and thither Sin-shar-ishkun fell back to make a new 
stand. But fate was against him once more. An unusual rise of 
the Tigris undermined the wall, and the city, now at the mercy 
of the besiegers, was sacked and burnt.’ 

Thus, shorn of her wide possessions and reduced to her last 
stronghold, fell the great Assyrian empire, and it is characteristic 
of her whole history that she fell with her face to the foe, fighting 
to the last. According to tradition, the siege of Nineveh lasted 
for two years, and this, if it be taken to include the whole course 
of events down to the fall of Kelach, is doubtless correct. It was 
therefore in the year 606 B. c. that the reign of Sin-shar-ishkun 
came to an end together with the last remnants of the monarchy 
he represented. 


Jouns Hopkins UNIVERSITY. 


CHRISTOPHER JOHNSTON. 


1 For a detailed account of the siege of Nineveh see Der Untergang 
Ninevehs und die Weissagungsschrift des Nahum von Elkosch, by Col. Adolf 
Billerbeck and Dr. Alfred Jeremias, Beitr. zur. Assyr. III, 87-188. For 
the fall of Kelach cf. especially Col. Billerbeck’s remarks, zdid. p. 131. 


NE EMISSES, NE POPOSCISSES, AND SIMILAR 
EXPRESSIONS. 


The expressions ze emzsses (Cic. in Verr. II, 3, 84, 105) and 
ne poposcisses (Cic. ad Att. II, 1, 3), etc., are commonly regarded 
as volitive subjunctives, representing 226 emeris, ne poposceris, 
etc., projected into the past. This theory makes it necessary to 
explain the pluperfect tense as due to analogy with the behavior 
of the perfect subjunctive in certain subordinate clauses, when pro- 
jected into the past, e. g. sz emeris, nist poposceris, which become 
st emisses, nisi poposcisses. Until recently I have myself accepted 
this view,’ because no other possible explanation of these strange 
expressions occurred to me. However, I have never been able 
to accept a similar theory for the origin of such uses of the 
pluperfect subjunctive as that illustrated by ves¢itisses in Cic. 
pro Sestio 20,45. To be sure there was a strong temptation 
to associate the affirmative with the negative expression, as 
restitisses apparently means ‘“‘ you should have resisted”’, just as 
716 emisses apparently means “you should not have bought”. 
But the tense of ves¢ztisses seemed to mea serious difficulty in 
the way of the theory that it represents a volitive use of the sub- 
junctive. It was, I thought, conceivable that xe emzsses should 
be μὲ emeris projected into the past,’ but vestztisses could not 
similarly be traced back toa vrestzteris, for no such use of the 
perfect subjunctive as vestiteris, in the sense of “resist thou”, is 
known in Latin; anda present tense would, when thrown into 
the past, become vesisteres, instead of restitisses. On the other 
hand, the pluperfect tense in affirmative expressions could not 


1 See my Studies in Latin Moods and Tenses, p. 226, and the Latin Pro- 
hibitive in American Journal of Philology, Vol. XV, pp. 315-316, note. 

2 This, however, involved the necessity of assuming that Cicero (strangely 
enough) projected into the past in his most dignified styles a type of ex- 
pression (xe emeris) which is itself carefully excluded from such styles. 
See American Journal of Philology, XV, p. 134-135. The necessity of 
making such an unreasonable assumption is in itself enough to bring the 
validity of that theory into serious doubt. 


124 H. C. ELMER. 


well be explained after the analogy of the pluperfect in negative 
expressions like 726 emisses, since that would necessitate the 
assumption that the type me emzsses had become firmly estab- 
lished before the type vestitisses arose, while all the evidence is 
against any such assumption. It was on account of these 
considerations that I ventured in my Studies (p. 226) to 
dissociate the two uses and to explain affirmative expressions 
like vestitisses as having originally meant “you would have 
resisted”’, with some such ellipsis as “if you had done your 
duty”, and as having from this original use developed the 
meaning ‘‘you should have resisted”. Something like a 
parallel seemed to me to exist in the development of meaning 
undergone by certain other expressions. For instance, ec 
putaueris, when used in the sense of “πού would you suppose”, 
distinctly and prominently implies the manifest impropriety 
of supposing the thing referred to and probably came at 
times to be felt as amounting practically to ‘nor ought’ 
you (under the circumstances) to suppose”. Similarly cur gau- 
deas ?, starting with the idea ‘‘ why would you rejoice (under the 
circumstances) ?”’, “what reason is there for rejoicing?” (i. e. it 
would be absurd to rejoice) came to mean “why should you re- 


1 In his discussion of my theory regarding a Subjunctive of Obligation 
or Propriety in Latin (see his Critique of Some Recent Subjunctive Theo- 
ries), Professor Bennett forgets that the idea of ‘‘ propriety’’, as well as 
that of “obligation ’’, is involved in my theory. By clinging to the word 
‘‘ought” in applying the theory to concrete cases, he makes the interpre- 
tation sometimes seem forced and unnatural, For instance, in Trin. 627, 
noli auorsari neque te occultassis mihi, he translates “don’t turn away and 
you oughtn’t to hide’’. This is, I believe, the only passage in which a 
prohibition immediately precedes this use of ec and is therefore the pas- 
sage in which my interpretation seems least natural. Still even here it 
makes perfectly good sense to interpret ‘‘don’t turn away—nor had you 
better hide’. If ‘‘ought’’ is to be the one word by which my theory is to 
be tested, the word must be understood as used with the various shades of 
meaning recognized by lexicographers, viz.,as meaning not merely “to be 
bound in duty by moral obligation’, but also, and quite as often, as mean- 
ing ‘‘to be necessary, fit, becoming or expedient, to behoove ”’ (Webster). 
“You ought” in English frequently means ‘‘you’d better’’, “you need 
το", etc. The fact that the word “ ought ’’ has taken on all these meanings 
proves that an expression of obligation may easily become one of mere 
propriety, and forms therefore a sufficient justification for associating the 
two conceptions as I have done. 


NE EMISSES, NE POPOSCISSES, ETC. 125 


joice?”* But I must confess that such a development of meaning 
does not seem so natural in a contrary-to-fact expression like 
restitisses as in expressions like πες putaueris and cur gaudeas ?. 
Further consideration has convinced me not merely that the two 
types of expression represented by ves¢ztisses and ne emtsses must 
be associated as being affirmative and negative forms of the same 
modal use, but that both the common view regarding the mood, 
and the one previously held by myself, are fundamentally wrong. 

The best and clearest statement of the common view with which 
I am acquainted is that found in the Appendix (8362) to Bennett’s 
Latin Grammar, from which I quote the following, enclosing in 
brackets a sentence added by Professor Bennett in his Critique, 
p27: 

“ Corresponding to the jussive /oguatur, ‘let him speak’, ‘ he’s 
to speak’, there developed an imperfect use, Jogueretur, ‘he was 
to speak’, ‘he should have spoken’. This use is manifestly a 
derived one, since one cannot now will a person to have done in 
the past what he obviously has failed todo. An expression like 
loqgueretur, therefore, must have been formed after the analogy 
of loguatur. The pluperfect subjunctive also occurs in this sense 


1 Bennett (Critique, p. 22 f.) regards such a development of meaning as 
impossible. But a similar development has actually taken place and can 
be historically traced, in the meaning of the English word “should”’, 
which sometimes indicates obligation, sometimes (in the first person) mere 
contingent futurity. This development of meaning was due wholly toa 
confusion in the popular mind, somewhere in the history of the language, 
between the two conceptions. Bennett remarks: “what a person would 
do ... bears no necessary or natural relation to what he ought to do. 
Sometimes one would do what one ought. Oftener, I fear, one would do 
what one ought not”. This last assertion may be true. But the fact 
remains that the ideas “ought to do” and “destined to do’’ have very 
frequently, both in ancient and modern languages, come to be expressed 
by one and the same mechanism, and that this has been due to the inti- 
mate association, at times, of the two conceptions involved. For instance, 
the words ‘‘shall”’ in English, “sollen’”’ in German, “ devoir’’ in French, 
all start with the idea of “ ought’”’, but “I shall go”’ has come to mean that 
the act will certainly take place, and ‘‘ersoll”’ and ‘‘il doit’ are often used 
in the sense of ‘‘he is destined to”; “ faciendum est’? means ‘‘ ought to be 
done ’”’, but it also means ‘‘must be done’’; again in 7d faciendum curauit 
the idea of obligation is entirely lacking ; “ oportet”’, “dei”, ““ χρή ᾽᾽ are all 
used both of what “ought to be’’ and of what “must be’’; “ obliged’? 
means “under obligation’’, but ‘‘ he is obliged to go”’ refers to an act thay 
is of necessity going to happen. 


126 νον ca) BS MV oh 


[evidently an attempt to bring out more distinctly the reference 
to the past], as eum imitatus esses, ‘you ought to have imitated 
him’. The volitive character of these expressions is shown by 
the fact that the negative is regularly ze.” 

This explanation recognizes as involved in the expressions 76 
emisses and ne poposcisses two ideas, viz., the volitive idea, in the 
form of a prohibition, and the idea of obligation or propriety, 
in the form of a mere assertion that an obligation, as a matter of 
fact, existed (equivalent therefore to some form of opfortet with 
the infinitive). These two ideas are wholly different and distinct. 
A prohibition cannot at the same time be an assertion that merely 
states something. If therefore both of these ideas are suggested 
by ze emisses, as is assumed by the interpretation we are con- 
sidering, it follows that one of them must be the idea primarily 
expressed and the other must be merely an implication involved. 
That is, the expression ze emzsses must be primarily a prohibition 
(the idea of obligation being merely implied), or else primarily 
a mere assertion that an obligation existed in the past. Let us 
consider the possibility of each of these two alternatives. 

The first alternative is absolutely impossible, a fact fully recog- 
nized by Bennett in the passage above quoted. His own language 
is sufficient comment on this point, viz., ‘one cannot now willa 
person to have done in the past what he obviously has failed to 
do,” or will him not to do what he obviously has done. 

But it is practically certain that the other alternative is equally 
impossible. To suppose that the Romans themselves felt these 
expressions as mere assertions of any sort would involve us in 
insurmountable difficulties. For instance if these expressions 
were mere assertions that an obligation existed in the past (and 
were therefore equivalent to some form of ofortet with the infini- 
tive), the ze could then be accounted for only by supposing that 
the expression originated in some volitive use of the subjunctive 
and that, in the developed use, the ze was simply retained from 
the earlier volitive. But before ze, the negative of the volitive, 
could be used to negative a mere assertion that an obligation 
existed in the past, it must necessarily have been used with 
expressions which were identical 2722 form with direct independent 
expressions of the will, but which nevertheless so prominently 
implied the idea of an obligation that they, after a time, came to 
be regarded as sometimes amounting to mere statements that an 


NE EMISSES, NE POPOSCISSES, ETC. 127 


obligation existed. Otherwise there would be no starting point 
from which the development might proceed. But it has been 
seen that ze emisses does not have the form of any possible 
expression of the speaker’s will. Therefore this use of "6 in an 
expression which, we are for the moment assuming, has already 
come to be felt as a mere assertion of the existence of an obliga- 
tion, cannot have originated in such an expression as me emiisses, 
or any similar expression referring to the past. If then, ze has 
come to be used in mere assertions, it must first have been so 
used in assertions referring to the present. In other words, we 
must assume that such expressions as 724 emeris, ne emas, first 
began to be felt as mere assertions that the act ought not to be 
performed. After ze had begun to be frequently associated with 
assertions of this form, it might then have easily drifted away from 
this original use and come to be used in assertions that the act 
ought not to have been performed in the past, i. e. in assertions 
that did not even retain the form of an expression of the speaker’s 
will.1| But no syntactician, so far as I know, ever claimed that xe 
emeris, né emas, etc., are ever mere assertions that the act ought 
not to be performed, i. e. that they mean merely “it is not proper 
for you to buy”, “you ought not to buy”. Such expressions are 
universally regarded as prohibitions, involving no more idea of 
obligation or propriety than the imperative ze eme, ne emito 
itself. If 2e emeris means nothing more or less than “do not 
buy ’’, then it is inconceivable that, in an expression like 716 ewzzsses, 
ne is suddenly felt as the negative of a mere assertion that an 
obligation existed. This forces us back upon the other alternative 
agaim and we must assume to be true what we have already 
agreed cannot be true, namely, that me is used only because ze 
emisses is still felt distinctly as an expression of the speaker’s will 
(a prohibition) and one requiring therefore the negative associated 
with the volitive. For, be it remembered, the Subjunctive of 
Obligation or Propriety, from first to last, early and late, persist- 
ently clings to oz as its negative—or rather, zo clings to it.’ 
There is absolutely no exception to this statement, unless ze 


1 Even then the pluperfect tense would have been inappropriate. 

2See my Studies on this point. If the explanation of me emisses etc. 
offered in the present paper is correct, the chief support for the theory that 
the subjunctive of obligation ever arose from a volitive subjunctive is gone. 


128 H. C. ELMER. 


emisses, ne poposcisses, etc., which we are discussing, form such 
exceptions. 

A still further obstacle, and a very serious one, in the way of 
the theory I am combating is formed by the use of the pluperfect 
tense—a tense probably unknown to the volitive subjunctive. If 
loqueretur is formed after the analogy of /oguatur, after the analogy 
of what is the pluperfect tense used? It does not seem satisfac- 
tory to say merely that the pluperfect is due to a desire to bring 
out more distinctly the reference to the past. How does the 
pluperfect in such cases refer any more distinctly to the speaker’s 
past than the imperfect? The imperfect tense refers as distinctly 
to the past as anything possibly can, and there is, in such a 
context as that in which these expressions occur, never any danger 
of the slightest ambiguity. Is it then conceivable that a Roman 
would ever hesitate to use the imperfect tense for fear that some 
one would think he was referring to the present? The question 
seems answered with the asking. 

It follows from the considerations above advanced that ze 
emisses, ne poposcisses, etc. cannot be either prohibitions or nega- 
tive assertions. The theory we have been discussing does not 
satisfactorily account either for the negative, or for the pluperfect 
tense. Apparently then we have from the very outset been 
traveling in the wrong direction. I am now convinced that these 
expressions are developed from the optative. If we proceed 
upon this assumption, the explanation of all the phenomena is at 
once greatly simplified. The pluperfect tense, which is wholly 
inexplicable and without parallel if the expressions be regarded as 
volitive in origin, now becomes perfectly regular and exactly what 
would be expected. The ze, too, now seems perfectly normal 
since some idea of an unfulfilled wish, i. e. of regret that something 
happened which ought not to have happened, still remains promi- 
nent enough in the expressions to justify the retention of the 
negative ze. Such expressions of regret used of the past might 
easily lean toward the idea of obligation or propriety. On the 
other hand, one can hardly conceive of anything which he feels 
ought not to have happened, about which it would seem very 
unnatural for him to wish that it had not happened. Such expres- 
sions might well have been used now with the one idea upper- 
most, now with the other. 

The use of the imperfect subjunctive in 2216 comesses and ne 


NE EMISSES, NE POPOSCISSES, ETC. 129 


Saceres, cited by Bennett from Plautus(Men. 611, Pseud. 437), forms 

no obstacle to the explanation I am advocating, as the imperfect 
subjunctive is occasionally used in early Latin (and rarely in later 
times) to express an unfulfilled wish in the past (see, for instance, 
Gildersleeve-Lodge §261, note 2), and the developed use might 
have retained this peculiarity of tense-usage. The occasional use 
of zoz* will then be on the same. footing as the occasional use of 
non with other optative subjunctives. It is true that utinam 
might have been expected with the pluperfect tense, but as 
utinam is very frequently omitted with the present and perfect 
tenses of the optative subjunctive and sometimes with the imper- 
fect, it is not unreasonable to suppose that it might occasionally 
be omitted also with the pluperfect. Indeed many scholars recog- 
nize its occasional omission with the pluperfect.2 The omission 
would seem especially natural as soon as the meaning of the 
expression began to drift away from the idea of mere wishing. 
At any rate it seems far less difficult to suppose that these curious 
expressions have their origin in the optative subjunctive than to 
regard them as representing a development from the volitive. 


CoRNELL UNIVERSITY. 


H. C. ELMER. 


1 See Clement’s Prohibitives in Silver Latin (Amer. Jour. of Phil., Vol. 
ΟΣ, 2)» 

2 See Allen and Greenough 8267, D, note 2; Harkness §558, 2; see also 
the comments of editors and Gildersleeve-Lodge §261, note 2, on Tibull. 
I, 10, I1-12. 


ny 


VN tan 


eee 


Ὶ i Hen πὰ i Lan ) το 
ΝΜ ἡ“; 
Wie 


TE lid By ESE ELE 
A Π 


‘ Notas 
pr ΤᾺ 


ya OR, " 
ἱ 4 fh ! the ty, aye 


Hehe 


eet aang 


ayn Nes eg 
NSC LON NEA ML 

Τ δ ἡ 

hi 


il t a 
4 ering I ἢ Wf hil τὰ NEM I ES \ 
NG AORN AA A HORA TN RMT LEADING OP 


i Ϊ ἡ 


ΝΥ Hy 
VON ey ; 
᾿ ε1 4 ya 
VIRAL A 


Pay) ΨΩ 
ΤΥ (aly 
ἢ i 


Naini 
Mi Analy ἵν Υ 
ΠΡ 





NOTES ON THE LATIN VERBS OF RATING. 
ji 
The Stylistic Use of Pro. 


With a number of verbs of rating 270 with the ablative is used 
instead of the genitive of value. This is, ultimately,a development 
of the use of fro with the force of ‘in the place of,’ ‘instead of,’ 
‘for, seen in such examples as Cat. p. 37, 16 (Jordan) numquam 
ego argentum pro vino congiario ... disdidi. Of the inter- 
mediate stages in the development one is to be found in the 
occurrence of 270 in expressions of price. Cp. Plaut. Most. 823 
tris minas pro istis duobus .. . dedi. Another is its use with 
verbs of viewing, judging, considering, etc. Cp. Plaut. Stich. 571 
sese ducit pro adulescentulo; Ter. Ad. 48 hunc... habui, amavi 
pro meo; Cic. Verr. 2, 4, 33; and the frequent occurrence of 270 
certo habere and similar expressions, as in Cic. Att. 10, 6, 3 Pom- 
peium pro certo habemus per Illyricum proficisci in Galliam ; 
Sall. C. 52,17; Liv. 23, 6,8; id. 25, 10,1. Many examples of 
this usage might be given. It emerges at an early period and 
maintains itself throughout the history of the language. 

It is from this subjective use of fvo that the construction of 270 
with the ablative as a substitute for the genitive of value is 
immediately developed; I mean the use of 270 with the ablative 
of some word, which, with a verb of rating, is usually put in the 
genitive. Pyro nzhilo is the phrase that occurs most frequently ; 
pro magno turns up occasionally, and possibly other combinations 
might be found. Examples are 270 nihilo esse instead of nzhili 
6556, pro nthilo habere instead of nihili habere, pro nthilo putare 
instead of uzhzli putare. 

Neither Plautus nor Terence seem to have used pro nzhilo, 
although many instances of zzhz/i are found. The only example 
that I have noticed in early Latin is Caecil. ap. Varr. L. L. 7, 103 
(Spengel) tantum rem dibalare ut pro nilo habuerit. It is first 
fully developed by Cicero who clearly prefers it to zzhz/z, as being 
more formal, as making a rounder phrase, in those of his works in 
which special attention is paid to style. Of zhz/i there seem to 


132 GORDON J. LAING. 


be only five examples in all his works; of 270 nzhzlo, on the other 
hand, some thirty have been noted, seventeen of which occur in 
the philosophical writings, eleven in the speeches, two in the 
letters. The statistics are significant. The phrase, well adapted 
to the fuller style of the philosophical works, is not in keeping 
with the conciseness and brevity of the letters. 

In almost every case it occurs in the cadence of the sentence, 
and in a large number of examples it stands as the last member 
of a climax. In this, which is perhaps its most characteristic 
position, the stylistic effect is most clearly seen. Cp. Fin. 
I, 32, 61 quam contemnet, quam despiciet, quam pro nihilo 
putabit; Tusc. 3, 17, 36 ut omnia . . . contemnas et pro nihilo 
putes; Off. 1, 9, 28 contemnant et pro nihilo putent; ib. 1, 21, 71 
quod gloriam contemnant et pro nihilo putent ; de Or. 2, 84, 344 
magnitudo animi, qua omnes res humanae tenues ac pro nihilo 
putantur; Mil. 24,64 ut . . . contempsit ac pro nihilo putavit! 
Div. in Caecil. 7, 24 contempsit semper ac pro nihilo putavit; 
Fin. 3, 8, 29 despicere ac pro nihilo putare; ib. 3, 11, 37 non 
requirat et pro nihilo putet; Caecin. 19, 56 respuat ... et pro 
nihilo putavit ; Vatin. 9, 23 solus conculcaris ac pro nihilo putaris; 
Fin. 4, 14, 37 relinquat et pro nihilo habeat herbam; Off. 5, 24 
contemnere et pro nihilo ducere; Tusc. 5, 10, 30 opes contemnere 
eaque .. . pro nihilo ducere. 

Elsewhere it is used alone: cp. Phil. 2, 23, 56 quoniam con- 
demnatum esse pro nihilo sit; Att. 14, 9, 1 di immortales, quam 
mihi ista pro nihilo! Fin. 2, 13, 43 quae... visa sunt pro nihilo; 
Phil. 1, 6, 14 ut . . . rempublicam pro nihilo haberemus; Dom. 
14, 38; Tusc. 5, 26,73 quam pro nihilo puto! Fin. 5, 24, 72; 
Lael. 23,86) (Phil.)10; 2, 6; Fam, 10, 26, 5; Tusc.'5, 32) ‘oo;pro 
nihilo pecuniam ducere; Verr. 2, 16, 40. 

Other examples of 270 nzhilo occur here and there in classical 
and silver Latin. Cp. Sall. J. 31, 25 quae . . . pro nihilo haben- 
tur; Liv. 2, 61, 5 tribunos ... pro nihilo habebat; id. 33, 46, 3; 
Sen. Dial. 11, 10, 3 habuisse eadem pro nihilo ducit; id. N. Q. 4, 
13, 10 pro nihilo est familiaris rigor; Pers. 1, 30 ten cirratorum 
centum dictata fuisse pro nihilo pendes? Sil. Ital. 2, 494 pro nihilo 
esse; Plin. N. H. 18, 31, 319. 

In later Latin we find it taken up by some of the church fathers. 
Cp. Lactant. 1, 725, 12’ philosophiam . . . pro nihilo conputent; 


1 The reference is to volume, page and line of the Vienna edition. 


NOTES ON THE LATIN VERBS OF RATING. 133 


Sulp. Sev. 226,12. Lucifer uses it in several passages: 108, 7; 178, 
25 dignaris pro nihilo habere persequi servos unici filii dei; 291, 6; 
44, 9 haec omnia ducens pro nihilo; 52, 25; 134, 8; 245, 4; 291, 
16; 291, 31. Cp. Paul. Nol. 2, 438, 22 qui autem pro nihilo me 
habent, ad nihilum redigentur; id. 2, 438, 9; 2, 439,10. Gregory 
of Tours 2, 707, 1 (Arndt) has oblectamenta pro nihilo reputata ; 
id. 2, 715, 13 contumelias pro nihilo habuerunt; and, what is of 
special interest, examples of the combination of pro nzhilo with 
verbs other than those of rating, namely vespuere and deducere. 
The same thing occurs in Orosius 352, 12 with contemnere: et 
ipsi pro nihilo contempti sunt. This development is in direct line 
with the Ciceronian phraseology already pointed out, e. g. Tusc. 
3, 17, 36 contemnas et pro nihilo putes; Fin. 3, 11, 37 respuat 
. et pro nihilo putet. 


ΤΙ. 
A Group of Partitive Genitives. 


In the expressions Joni consulere, aegui boniqgue facere, nihil 
pensi esse, the genitives are partitive. <Alguid bont consulere 
means to consider something as forming part of that which is 
good ; aliquid aequi bonique facere, to count something as part of 
that which is fair and good ; while in zzhz/ penst we have the same 
partitive genitive as in 2111 mali, nihil novi. These genitives 
should, therefore, be differentiated from the genitives of value 
magni, parvi etc., which go back to an original genitive of quality 
magni pretii, parvi pretit, Their classification under the head of 
the Genitive of Value, adopted by almost all our grammars, is in 
some ¢2ses perhaps simply a matter of convenience, yet in one of 
the more recent productions of this now prolific field identity of 
origin seems to be implied. The fact that the expressions had 
become stereotyped, and that the Romans in their everyday use 
of them did not feel their partitive origin, does not affect the 
question. Neither did they feel the genitives magnz, ῥαγυΐ with 
verbs of rating as genitives of quality. Roby’s explanation 
(§1191) that donz, aeguz, and pensz are locatives may now be fairly 
regarded as exploded, at any rate, wherever Latin grammar is 
studied seriously. His theory seems to survive, for the most 
part, only in some of the smaller editions of Latin authors, and it 
is accordingly somewhat surprising to find it cropping up in so 
pretentious a work as Spooner’s edition of Tacitus’ Histories. 


134 GORDON J. LAING. 


At least some such idea is apparently involved in his note at 1, 46 
neque genus quaestus pensi habebat: “‘Aensz is a genitive of price, 
literally ‘at any value.’”’ 


Bont consulere. 


That this was an old formula we know from Quintilian Inst. 
Orat. 1, 6, 32 sit enim ‘Consul’ a consulendo vel a iudicando, 
nam et hoc ‘consulere’ veteres vocaverunt, unde adhuc remanet 
illud ‘rogat boni consulas,’ id est bonum iudices. Cp. also Paul. 
ex Fest. (p. 29 de Ponor) ‘consulas’ antiqui ponebant non tan- 
tum pro ‘consilium petas’ et ‘perconteris,’ sed etiam pro ‘iudices’ 
et ‘statuas.’ It survived as an archaism, occurring sporadically 
in all periods of the language. An old fashioned homely phrase, 
it is found most frequently in writings in which there is a tendency 
to use colloquial Latin, or where at least there is no effort made 
in the direction of an elevated style. 

We find it first of all in Plaut. Truc. 429 boni consulas. Cp. 
Cist. 468 ut illud quod tuam in rem conducat, aequi consulam. 
Cato uses it Orat. Reliq. (p. 41 Jordan) eane fieri bonis, bono 
genere gnatis, boni consulitis? and Varro L.L.7,4 M. potius 
boniconsulendum quam ...reprehendendum. It occurs in Priap. 
53, 6 consule poma boni, in familiar address to the least dignified 
of Italian deities, and in Ovid’s pleading line, Trist. 4, 1, 106 car- 
men, interdicta mihi, consule, Roma, boni. Cp. Ep. ex Pont. 1, 
3, 94 and 3, 8,24. Augustus,a man of plain speech, makes use ΟἹ 
it in his letter to Horace, Suet. de poetis (p. 47, 8 Reifferscheid) 
libellum tuum, quem ego... boni consulo. Columella 1o, 
praef. 5 has boni consulat, si non sit dedecori. It is a mannerism 
of Seneca’s; cp. Ep. 17, 7 id boni consulet; ib. 123, 1 hance coqui 
ac pistoris moram boni consulo; Ben. 1, 8, 1; ib.5,17,53 7,1, 1; 
Dial. 1, 2, 4 quicquid accidit boni consulant; 11, 10,6. In all 
these instances it has a direct object. Somewhat less definite is 
Ben. 2, 28, 1 hoc initium est: boni consulamus. With si clause 
Ep. 75, 4 sed si ita conpetit, ut... , boni consulet; ib. 88, 14 
si quid remittitur, boni consulo; ib. 108, το. Other examples 
are Plin. N.)H. 133) prooem.)i2, 4.5, 1b. 8, 16,445) 1} Ὁ 
prooem. 16 boni autem consulere nostrum laborem; Plin. Ep. 
7,12, 3 quod si feceris, boni consulam. Apuleius, true to his 
archaizing tendency, shows some examples: Flor. 1, 7 fin. 
Apol. 16 med., with accusative and infinitive,ego non mirer, si 


NOTES ON THE LATIN VERBS OF RATING. 135 


boni consulis me de isto distortissimo vultu tuo dicere; ib. 99 
init. In Met. 8,9 we have a development in the addition of the 
superlative: boni ergo et optimi consules, si.... Met. 6, 3 is 
probably another example of the use of oftzmz7, although in this 
case many of the MSS have oftime. We find it again in its 
simple form in Dig. 4, 4 fin.; ib. 23, 3,12, 1; Auson. Ep. 16, 1 
(p. 175 Sch.) quod tu etsi lectum non probes, scriptum boni con- 
sules; and in a number of places in the letters of Symmachus, 
with accusative 1, 20 (15), 2 ut... has adlegationes boni con- 
sulas; 1, 30 (24); 4, 58,1; 8,49; with accusative and infinitive 
3, II, 1 deesse huic epistulae Atticam sanitatem boni consule. 


Aeguit bonique facere. 


This phrase is more distinctly colloquial. It occurs in Ter. Heaut. 
788 ceterum equidem istuc, Chremes, aequi bonique facio. Cp. 
Plaut. Mil. 784 aequi istuc facio, ‘that’s all the same to me.’ 
Cicero Att. 7, 7, 4 has qui totum ἰδέας aequi boni facit; Liv. 34, 
22, 13 in a speech ceterum si... nos aequi bonique facimus ; 
Apul. Met. 1, 5 init. istud quidem quod polliceris aequi bonique 
facio; ib. 11, 18 oblationes honestas aequi bonique facio; Symm. 
1, 50 (44), 1: 


Nihil penst esse, habere, etc. 


Of the expressions in which fensz occurs, the earliest type is 
exemplified in Plaut. Truc. 765 nec mi adeost tantillum pensi iam 
quo capiam calceos. Of the same kind is Sall. C. 52, 34 quibus 
si quicquam umquam pensi fuisset . . . ; cp. also Liv. 26, 15, 4 
quis neque quid dicerent neque quid facerent quicquam unquam 
pensi tuisset ; id. 34, 49, 7; 42, 22, 3 illicui nihil pensisit; 43,7, 11 
quibus nihil neque dicere pensi sit neque facere; Sidon. Apoll. 
Ep. 3, 13; Greg. Tur. 1, 149, 26 (Arndt) in Cantino autem nihil 
sancti, nihil pensi fuit. 

In all these examples esse is the verb used. Vhil (nec guic- 
quam) pensi habere is probably not much later in origin, although 
its first appearance in extant literature seems to be in one of the 
sententiae ascribed to Caecilius Balbus (p. 127 in Friedrich’s 
edition of Publilius Syrus) nil pensi habere insanientem est vivere. 
Sallust uses it C. 23, 2 neque dicere neque facere quicquam pensi 
habebat; ib. 5,6; 12, 2 linked with moderati: pudorem pudici- 
tiam ... nihil pensi neque moderati habere; id. J. 41,9 nihil 


136 GORDON J, LAING. 


pensi neque sancti habere; Sen. Ben. 1, 9, 5; Suet. Ner. 34; id. 
Dom. 12. In Gell. 13, 12, 2 we find a variation of the phrase in 
ratum pensumque nihil haberet, where the form of pensum is 
probably due“to that of vatwm. Lactantius 1, 481, 1 has nihil 
denique moderati aut pensi habent, dummodo ... , where the 
phraseology is very similar to that of Sallust C. 12, 2 cited above ; 
Sulp. Sev. 103, 8 certe Ithacium nihil pensi, nihil sancti habuisse. 

So far, it will be observed, the genitive invariably depends upon 
some negative word or phrase such as zzhil or nec quicguam. 
Just when the freer type was developed, in which the negative is 
no longer used, and the genitive depends directly upon the verb, 
cannot be definitely ascertained. The first evidence of this 
emancipation is perhaps found in Liv. 34, 31, 3 in me quoque vobis 
quid faceretis, minus pensi esse, but the first positive example is 
Val. Max. 2, 9, 3 mec pensi duxerat isdem imaginibus ascribi. 
This precedent is followed by Tacitus, Ann. 13, 15 neque fas 
neque fidem pensi haberet; Dial. 29 nec quisquam . . . pensi 
habet quid ... Cp. also Symm. Ep. 1, 73 (67); ib. 1, 75 (69) 
hunc ut pensi habeas; 3, 17, 1 ut in reliquum pensi habeas 
amicitiae diligentiam. It is in this last stage of its development 
that pensz comes closest to the Genitive of Value. 

UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO. GORDON J. LAING. 


THE PENTAPODY.IN GREEK POETRY. 


There is nothing more striking in the history of Greek metres 
than the fact that at the beginning of the literature we find so 
highly developed a form of verse as the dactylic hexameter, a 
tetraseme hexapody, evidently not representing the people nor 
coming from them. The solemn, majestic dactylico-spondaic 
verse, so well adapted to song in service of the gods, had naturally 
been employed by those early leaders of the people, the priests ; 
it was used in the course of time, in the form of the hexameter, to 
the exclusion of all other measures; we find it so used by the 
great poet himself in the two works which mark for us the begin- 
ning of the literature. How long the process of evolution and 
firm establishment of this composite verse lasted we may never 
know; certainly long enough to make its use a fixed law which 
no one might easily transgress. The first change is seen in the 
introduction of the elegiac distich; but this is still dactylic, and 
the hexameter is still a component part. All admiration is there- 
fore due the man who could completely break away from the 
thraldom of binding custom and introduce new verse forms, 
especially those which were dear to the people : we have in this 
at least one reason why Archilochus should be placed next to the 
_immortal Homer. Archilochus it was that gave to Greek litera- 
ture the triseme, the iambic and trochaic forms of verse; it 
was he that brought forth the tetrapody and the tripody; in 
Archilochus, too, we find the first possibilities of a pentapody. It 
is true, the second member of the elegiac distich—the broken hex- 
ameter—was called a pentameter by the ancient writers on metrics, 
and it still keeps the name; but in cases like this even those who 
insist most earnestly on the necessity of paying due honor to the 
theories of the ancients must recognize that their methods were 
not always right. 

To the student of metres the pentapody has always been an 
interesting combination of verse feet. Not naturally a verse 
which appeals to the people it has yet become one of the most 
familiar in modern literature, although everywhere its first appear- 





138 BET.) SPIER ER. 


ance calls for explanation, and that explanation is not always 
forthcoming. Abstractly considered as a combination of units the 
number five might seem to be symmetrical enough, but in verse 
it is the τετράς that has held its own for the poetry of nations, and 
for Greek poetry it is besides this the ever-insistent duodecimal 
element which wins the victory over the decimal. In modern 
song and hymn for the people it is certainly the tetrapody and 
the tripody that reign supreme; wherever a pentapody shows 
itself it is felt to be at least unusual. In some cases such pen- 
tapodies are easily resolved into the component dipody and 
tripody, as in the hymns ‘Abide with me, fast falls the eventide’; 
‘Jerusalem, du hochgebaute Stadt’; ‘Ich habe gnug, mein Jesus 
lebet noch’; in other cases this is not so readily done, as in 
Luther’s ‘Jesaia dem Propheten das geschah.’ In all, however, 
the music will be found to have taken up an even number instead 
of the number five, and this charige is brought about by lengthen- 
ing the note on a syllable either at the beginning or at the end of 
the line, or by pause. It is of considerable importance in the 
study of the pentapody on Greek ground to bear in mind that in 
the best period it is altogether restricted to lyric poetry, never 
used in continuous stichic arrangement, and by no means largely 
used in lyric poetry. 

Like the hexapody it is apparently a composite verse, but that 
it in all cases so originated is not so certain. Of the several 
kinds of pentapody which we meet in Greek poetry the dactylic 
and the iambic-trochaic seem to be not so much a composition 
as rather a new creation, a conscious enlargement of a series 
which already included tetrapody and hexapody. In the 
dactylo-epitrite (Doric) group we have to deal with an 
evident union of different elements; not only was the com- 
position felt at first, but it must also have been felt, more or 
less, throughout. The ease with which the component parts 
are separated is one of the striking features of its use. The 
logaoedic group includes especially the Sapphic and the Alcaic 
pentapodies, and the pentapody of the skolia, the Phalaecean; 
all of these are very familiar verses which might easily produce 
on the mind of the reader the impression that the pentapcdy 
is an ordinary phenomenon in Greek poetry. They are part 
of a series of lines which mark the simplest and earliest union 
between the trochaic and the dactylic elements, and which are 


THE PENTAPODY IN GREEK POETRY. 139 


of all logaoedic combinations the most popular. The series 
includes the Adonic, the Pherecratean, the Glyconic, and the 
lines named above, that is, monodactylic’ logaoedic dipodies, 
tripodies, tetrapodies, and pentapodies. Inthe case of the pen- 
tapody we have different names if the dactyl occurs in different 
feet, but the lines are all only different manifestations of the same 
general type, just as the Glyconic remains a Glyconic, no matter 
in which foot the dactyl is found. In the formation of .these 
pentapodies the tendency to make use of monodactylic logaoedic 
lines was no doubt fundamental, but it seems not unlikely that 
they were in part based on lines like those of which Archilochus 
has left us three: these are the fragments 1017; 102, ὑφ᾽ ἡδονῆς 
σαλευμένη κορώνη; 116. Weare here standing on the border-land 
between pentapody and hexapody ; there may have been synco- 
pation of the last foot (as is generally supposed), the single long 
syllable being extended to occupy the time of the entire foot, or 
the last two syllables may form a trochee, the last being short in 
the syllaba anceps, just as we not infrequently find a long syllable 
similarly shortened in the final dactyl of an Aeolic dactylic 
pentapody.’ For Archilochus it was perhaps the former feeling 
that was uppermost: with him it may have meant a syncopation 
of the trimeter which he himself introduced ; but the other scansion 
could easily, and soon, arise. The line becomes fairly familiar 
after Archilochus, and, with the tendency to form monodactylic 
logaoedic lines, it is not difficult to conceive how the use of a 
tribrach in the third foot (the metre being regarded as trochaic with 
anacrusis) could have led to the formation of both the Sapphic 
(with,.and without, anacrusis) and Alcaic verses. Suchatribrach 
we have in Aleman 75 ἤδη παρέξει πυάνιόν τε πόλτον, in which, it is 
true, there is a possibility of synizesis in the third foot, but the 
tribrach is more likely. It is most interesting and suggestive to 
note that the strophe of Bacchylides I (9), of the recently dis- 


1TIn three of the skolia (9, 11, 12), two dactyls are employed, but this is 
due to the exigency of the use of the names Harmodius and Aristogiton. 

2 In citations of the melic and the iambic poets the numbering of Bergk 
(fourth edition) is given. 

3 Cf. Alcaeus 25, ἀντρέψει τάχα τὰν πόλιν: a δ᾽ ἔχεται ῥόπας; Sappho 32; 
Tol, 2; Theocritus 20, passim. 

+The numbering of these odes is that given in Smyth’s edition of the 
melic poets; numerals in parentheses give Kenyon’s arrangement. 


140 ὑόν AURA a WON Eo τ 


covered odes, consists of a line like that from Alcman just cited, 
two tetrapodies,, and a Sapphic pentapody. This certainly 
proves that Bacchylides felt the line as a pentapody (if he felt 
the Sapphic line as a pentapody); but it also proves no less 
that the iambic line in question was closely associated in his 
mind with the Sapphic. When we find on line 85 of the 
same ode the tribrach in the second foot, where the dactyl 
is found in the Phalaecean, there is even more suggestion, all 
culminating in the use of the simple iambic line of Archil- 
ochus in the corresponding line of the antistrophe, line 809. 
There are no pentapodies that are more familiar and none deserve 
to be called popular to the same extent. Other logaoedic pen- 
tapodies are essentially different: none of them occur more than 
a few times in the literature, not a few only once, and all are 
creations for the time being, their formation rendered possible by 
the existence of the monodactylic types and of the dactylic pen- 
tapody. In many it is difficult to avoid the feeling of composi- 
tion, so much so that at times it is not easy to decide whether we 
have dipody + tripody, or pentapody. It is only the eurhythmic 
structure of the whole that can finally decide the question, and 
where the material is not full enough we may never know the 
answer. 

Before taking up a rapid survey of the use of the pentapody in 
Greek poetry it may be well to bear in mind that here as else- 
where, if not more than elsewhere, one looks in vain for agree- 
ment among the editors, either as to the reading or as to the 
proper division of the lines, with the result that pentapodies 
appear and disappear according to the editor one follows. Again, 
where there is agreement as to what constitutes a line, the decision 
as to whether we have a pentapody or not is often fraught with 
more than ordinary. difficulty: what at first sight seems to bea 
five-foot line is often shown by a study of the whole ode to bea 
case of dipody + tripody; or, and this is a possibility always to 
be borne in mind, we may have to deal with syncopation, either 
at the beginning or at the end of the line, so that what seems to 
be a pentapody is really an hexapody. In the following the 


1In these tetrapodies we have the addition of anacrusis to the fourth 
line of the Alcaic stanza. 


THE PENTAPODY IN GREEK POETRY. 141 


guidance of Schmidt will be followed in the main throughout. 
It may be that for Germany Gleditsch’ is right in the conclusion 
of his statement that “infolge der Unwissenschaftlichkeit und 
Willkirlichkeit seines Verfahrens hat er unter den Philologen 
nur einen beschrankten Anhangerkreis gefunden,” but we must 
resent the protasis. If any are arbitrary it is those who preceded 
Schmidt, including the ancients; and surely if his method is not 
truly scientific, one must despair of ever reaching a definition of 
the term. 

We have seen that Archilochus gives us three examples of a 
possible pentapody, although in him these lines are perhaps to be 
scanned as syncopated iambic trimeters. In Aleman‘ we find the 
first dactylic pentapody: 51, οὐ yap ἐγώνγα, βάνασσα, Διὸς θύγατερ. 
We also find the Aeolic* dactylic pentapody in 17. In 71, αἶκλον 
᾿Αλκμάων ἁρμόξατο, we have a trochaic® pentapody, if the line is 
complete in the fragment quoted by Athenaeus, ΓΝ 140 C. Of 
lines like those cited from Archilochus Aleman gives several: 
By 345.03 Fa 30: TAA 743 3753) 52.) Dhey, are; probably to 
be taken as pentapodies. Fragment 62, Εὐνομίας re καὶ Πειθῶς 
ἀδελφά, gives us the first example in Greek literature of the mono- 
dactylic logaoedic pentapody, if Plutarch (de fort. Rom. c. 4) has 
not omitted any words in his quotation; as it stands we have in 
this first example the rare use of the single dacty] in the first foot. 
In fragment 39, χρύσιον ὅρμον ἔχων ῥαδινᾶν πετάλοισι καλχᾶν, if we put 
the last word on the second line, we have another dactylic penta- 
pody, although Bergk’s reading, πετάλοις ἴσα καλχᾶν, making the 


Schmidt has shown in $31 of his Antike Compositionslehre that the 
pentapouy occurs as the principal member of the period only in commatic 
songs, and he adduces a representative collection of examples from the 
tragic poets and from Pindar to prove his point. Other writers on metrics 
generally content themselves with the statement that the pentapody occurs 
rarely and give a few examples of the more familiar types. 

* Metrik der Griechen und Romer, ὃ 3 of the introduction. 

3’ From Alcman to Simonides inclusive all pentapodies are given. 

4 See Hephaestion, p. 24, Westphal’s edition. 

511 has also been taken as iambic, but cf. 70, κὐἠπὶ τᾷ μύλᾳ δρυφῆται κὴἠπὶ 
ταῖς συναικλίαις. Both the trochaic and the iambic pentapodies are very rare 
and occur later in the dramatic poets. The trochaic occurs in Aesch. 
Agam. 765=775; Soph. Aj. 405 = 424; Eurip. Troad. 290: the iambic in 
Aesch. 408 = 425; generally there is doubt as to the arrangement, as in 
Aesch. Suppl. 136 = 146; Eur, Iph. Aul. 1523. 


[42 E. H. SPIEKER. 


line an hexameter, is probably correct.’ Besides these pentapo- 
dies there are several lines which might seem to be of the same 
class, but are to be scanned otherwise. Such are 60, 5, καὶ κνώδαλ᾽ 
ἐν βένθεσι moppupéas ἁλός (where we have dipody + tetrapody, the 
scheme of the whole being 33433 242 333); 837; 87,2. 
In Alcman, then, we find only a few examples of the dactylic 
pentapody and possibly one each of the trochaic and of the 
monodactylic logaoedic type, while the iambic line of Archilochus 
is well represented by nine examples. 

In the poem attributed to Arion several pentapodies occur, 
dactylic and logaoedic, but the poem represents a later period, 
and so does not count for that which we are now considering. 

In Alcaeus we find above all the monodactylic line which goes 
by his name: 1; 9; 13 B (incomplete); 14; 18; 19; 20; 21; 22 
(incomplete); 23 (Hiller-Crusius (35) gives a different reading) ; 
26; 34; 35; 65; 68; 74. The Sapphic line occurs in 5; 36; 77. 
Aeolic pentapodies are found in 25 and 93. 809, οὐδέ τι μυνάμενος 
ἄλλυι τὸ νόημα (quoted by the scholiast to Hom. Od. XXI 71), as 
it stands might seem to be a dactylic pentapody, but it is of a 
kind such as is found nowhere else. Either ἐαύτω is to be added, 


1Bergk at first read the line without change or addition, thus giving us 
an early specimen of dactylo-epitrite verse, but one of a kind that does 
not occur in the later poets who use the metre. The reading would be 
interesting as recalling Pindar’s unusual line, Pyth. III 4, Ovpavida γόνον 
εὐρυμέδοντα Κρόνου, βάσσαισί τ’ ἄρχειν Παλίου φῆρ᾽ aypétepov, where the 
division is different, the scheme being either 542 or 32222. Nowhere 
else does Pindar give us in the dactylo-epitrite metre a pentapody con- 
taining four dactyls, or a tripody consisting of three. It is interesting, too, 
to note that the tendency to make use of epitrite combinations, so natural 
to the language, and showing itself constantly in iambic and trochaic 
lines, appears after a dactyl in Aleman 62, cited above, 

2 These two lines: 

περισσόν. al yap ᾿Απόλλων ὁ Λύκηος. 
᾿Ινὼ σαλασσομέδοισ᾽ ἃν ἀπὸ μάσδων 

are quoted by Hephaestion (p. 46), in the chapter in which he gives his 
explanation of the Sapphic and the Alcaic verses, and of the Sapphic and 
the Phalaecean with anacrusis. It is not surprising that the presence of 
two ionics in the lines quoted, or of a choriamb in the Sapphic, and also in 
the Alcaic, should have appealed to Hephaestion; when, however, he finds 
an ionic (in anaclastic form) as the central element of the Phalaecean with 
anacrusis (Sappho 58 and 59) we can only wonder at the ingenious results 
of his search. 


THE PENTAPODY IN GREEK POETRY. 143 


making the line an hexameter, or μυνάμενος should be changed 
tO μυνώμενος (cf. μύνῃσι Hom. Od, XXI 111), the line then being 
ionic. 94 gives us (possibly) the first example of the Doric 
pentapody, which later became so familiar a type: 

ἦ ῥ᾽ ἔτι, Διννομένη, τῷ Τυρραδήῳ 

τἄρμενα λάμπρα κέαντ᾽ ἐν Μυρσιλΐῳ ; 


Hephaestion distinctly says, (p. 51,) that these are examples of 
the so-called ἐγκωμιολογικόν, that is, of the Doric pentapody. As 
we lack the setting it is impossible to speak with certainty: it is 
not unlikely that to Alcaeus the lines were logaoedic and that 
there was syncopation at the end of the line. 

Bergk’s troublesome dual fragment, 55, is interesting as giving 
us a Sapphic line with anacrusis: ἰόπλοκ᾽ dyva μελλιχόμειδε Σάπφοι; 
this line is given by Hephaestion himself as an example of the 
᾿Αλκαϊκὸν δωδεκασύλλαβον. Bergk assumed that the other line, θέλω 
τι Feimny, ἀλλά με κωλύει αἴδως is one of the same kind, but this is 
manifestly wrong, as the assumption compels us to admit either 
an impossible use of two dactyls, or else a violent synizesis 
between the last two words. Whoever wrote the second frag- 
ment, it was undoubtedly written in the Alcaic metre, and aides is 
to be separated from the rest (see Smyth’s note to Sappho viii). 
As to the Sapphic line with anacrusis, it seems to have been a 
recognized type; witness its use by Stesichorus (49), and the fact 
that the ancients gave it a name. 

102, ἔγω μὲν ov δέω ταῦτα μαρτυρεῦντας, might be taken as an asyn- 
artete hexapody ; it seems rather to be an example of the Archi- 
lochian line discussed above, now unquestionably a pentapody. 

Sappho gives us first her own line in 1; 2; 3; 4; 5; 6; 73 
ΟΣ 10} ΤΠ ΤΣ; 42\(incomplete); 14; 15 (incomplete); 16; τὴ; 
18; 19; 20 (incomplete); 22; 26; and in the ode to her brother 
Charaxus: a comparatively small number when we bear in mind 
that antiquity had an entire book of odes composed by Sappho 
inthis metre. There are more Aeolic dactylic pentapodies of hers. 
preserved than of either Aleman or Alcaeus: 32; 33; 34; 353 37 
(H.-Cr. change so as to produce a different verse) ; 38; 39; 101 
104. Hephaestion quotes 33 as an example of the acatalectic 
pentameter, 104 for the catalectic type. Of these, too, antiquity 
possessed an entire book. In 103 we have the Archilochian line, 
which Hephaestion cites (p. 14) as his example of a catalectic 


[44 τ νι 


line, and he plainly states that the last syllable takes the place of 
an entire foot: it is more than likely that for Sappho the line was 
a pentapody. The Alcaic line occurs in the famous fragment 28, 
supposed to be her answer to Alcaeus 55, and in 29. The Phal- 
laecean with anacrusis is found in 58 and 59: part of the ordinary 
Phalaecean is probably in 21 and 105. 57A, χρυσοφάη θεράπαιναν 
’Adpodiras, might be regarded as a Doric pentapody, but is un- 
doubtedly, as Bergk says, logaoedic. In 51, κῆ δ᾽ ἀμβροσίας μὲν 
κράτηρ ἐκέκρατο, and 54,' Κρῆσσαί νύ ποτ᾽ ὧδ᾽ ἐμμελέως πόδεσσιν, We have 
a type of line such as occurs not infrequently in the later poets: 
lines of this kind contain a logaoedic tripody (especially a Phere- 
cratean), together with a cretic or a choriamb, either of which may 
be at the beginning or at the end of the line. Such lines may be 
pentapodies, but the division into dipody and tripody is alwaysa 
possibility, or we may have an hexapody by syncopation at the 
end of the line. 

Coming to Stesichorus we find the dactylic pentapody used 
in 8 and 50, 3; the latter after one of the dactylo-epitrite 
kind, an unusual combination. Dactylo-epitrite pentapodies 
are now an assured metrical condition. The looseness of the 
tie between the parts is shown in 35, 37 and 42, where the 
epitrite occurs between two dactylic tripodies, an arrangement 
which is met with not infrequently in Pindar. In 29,1 an epitrite 
precedes a series of dactylic tripodies: the dipody is pro-odic and 
there is no pentapody. In 51 a dactylic tripody precedes a 
ditrochee: according to Hephaestion (p. 25) such a line (without 
anacrusis) was called a Praxillean verse and he speaks of it as 
logaoedic. If this combination was ever felt as dactylo-epitrite, 
the feeling soon was lost, for in the large number of Pindaric odes 
written in that metre three dactyls are not found in pentapodies, 
although they do occur in tetrapodies. If 46 is complete, we 
have a rare iambic pentapody with resolution in the second foot. 
36 is hardly complete; as it stands it would be a cretic + synco- 
pated Glyconic, that is, an hexapody. The second line of the 
famous palinode (32), οὐδ᾽ ἔβας ἐν ναυσὶν εὐσέλμοις is NOt a pentapody 
but an hexapody by syncopation of feet at the end. Such heap- 
ing of long syllables, each constituting a foot, is not at all usual 
in Doric poetry ; in logaoedic verse it is somewhat more frequent, 


1 Hephaestion cites this as an example of ionic verse. 


TEE PENTAPODY IN GREEK POETR ¥, 145 


beginning with Simonides. 17 is probably a tetrapody like 
Ibycus 1, 4. 

Ibycus presents only a few instances of the use of pentapody. 
An apparent example is found in Bergk’s reading of 1, 10; here 
the reading πεδόθεν for παιδόθεν brings the line into harmony with 
the dactylic character of all that precedes, and it removes the 
pentapody. 21 is a Praxillean verse with anacrusis. 6, 2 and 
22, 2, which might be taken as dactylo-epitrite, especially the 
former, are to be taken as logaoedic. 

Anacreon also has but few pentapodies. Hephaestion cites 70, 
ὀρσόλοπος μὲν ΓΑρης φιλέει μεναίχμαν, aS an example of the encomio- 
logicum: this line as well as 72 and 72 B might easily be con- 
sidered Praxillean verses, especially the latter. On the other 
hand 71, 73 and 74 are possible examples of the first-named line. 
All are probably logaoedic with syncopation at the end. 31, 32, 
33 and 37 are all lines which might be taken as pentapodies, but 
are not. In view of Anacreon’s fondness for the use of ionics 
they might be referred to that class; as logaoedics they would be 
hexapodies. 36, αἰνοπαθῆ πατρίδ᾽ ἐπόψομαι, as it stands looks like a 
pentapody; it may have belonged to some ionic system. All 
the changes suggested remove it from the list of pentapodies. 79, 
κοίμισον δ᾽, ὦ Zed, σόλοικον φθόγγον, looks like part of a trochaic 
tetrameter; it may have been an epitrite line; if so, we have 
syncopation of the last two feet. 

In Simonides we see the dactylo-epitrite pentapody firmly 
established. It is found in: 7; 8; 57; 70; 71, the last two per- 
haps logaoedic. 23 might seem to contain in the second line a 
catalectic pentapody added to an epitrite, but the line is better 
taken as 23 2. Three dactyls precede a dipody in the logaoedic 
lines 53; 68; 69; 80 (in two cases there is lack of agreement as 
to the reading) : these lines are all variants of the Praxillean line. 
In fragment 10, 2 we find a dactylic pentapody after an epitrite ; 
the first line has also been scanned as a pentapody by syncopation 
of feet at the beginning; it is, however, altogether uncertain. 
57, 3 might be considered a rare form of the dactylic pentapody ; 
the rest of the fragment shows it to be tripody + dipody. An 
Alcaic line without anacrusis is found in 37, 13 (Danaé and 
Perseus), and in line 15 a Phalaecean with anacrusis of two short 
syllables. The Alcaic line without anacrusis occurs also in 73 


and the Phalaecean in 74. In 4,4; 32,3 and 36, 4 we find after 
10 


146 2.7. SPIEKER: 


a tripody three long syllables which are to be scanned, by synco- 
pation, as three feet, making the lines hexapodies. 12, 4 (ending 
in a cretic) is tripody + dipody; in the same way the division 
is to be made in 36, 39 and 46. 

Lamprocles, Pratinas, Diagoras, Cydias and Praxilla give us 
each a few examples of the types of the pentapody which have 
been seen in the poets preceding. From Praxilla we have only 
two specimens of the line which bore her name, and these are the 
two quoted by Hephaestion (p. 25). It is also interesting to 
observe that we have in Pratinas 5 (as in Bacchylides 28) a 
trochaic pentameter. 

In Bacchylides and Pindar, in the latter of whom especially 
there is more of pentapody material than in any of the poets that 
precede, the Doric pentapody reaches its largest use. In Bacchyl- 
ides most are of this type. His logaoedic lines are all simple. 
In 31 we have a cretic pentapody such as Aristophanes makes use 
of in the Acharnians and the Knights. In Pindar we find much 
greater freedom in the treatment of the logaoedic pentapodies: a 
single dacty] is found in the fourth foot; tribrachs and syncopated 
feet are freely used, and, in general, combinations are employed 
such as we do not find before. The proportion of Doric to loga- 
oedic lines in Pindar is about 3:1. The large use of the two 
forms of the Doric pentapody in Pindar and Bacchylides served 
to make them the most extensively used of all pentapodies in 
the literature as we have it, and, as has been seen, they are 
the least certain of all. But these two poets are not the 
only ones to make use of the Doric form: others show how 
familiar a verse it had become. Its use in folk-song, in the 
Chalcidian love-song, is interesting. Of the tragic poets Euripides 
is especially fond of it, using it in the Alcestis, Andromache, 
Hecuba, Electra, Medea, Rhesus and Troades. Sophocles has 
it inthe Trachiniae, and Aeschylus in the Prometheus. The 
same combination of feet is sometimes employed in logaoedic 
verse: Euripides has this form in the Bacchae, Helena and 
Hippolytus; Sophocles in the Ajax; Aristophanes in the 
Knights, Clouds and Ecclesiazusae. In Aristophanes these pen- 
tapodies are, of course, comic reminiscences of the higher lyric 
style; thus Eqq. 1265, ἢ θοᾶν ἵππων ἐλατῆρας ἀείδειν μηδὲν ἐς Avoi- 
στρατον, recalls the epinikian strain. 

In the later lyric poets the pentapody is not avoided, nor on 


THE PENTAPODY IN GREEK POETRY. 147 


the other hand is it much used. The lines found are altogether 
those simpler forms which we see in the earlier period. Espe- 
cially interesting is the use of the Aeolic dactylic pentapody in 
Theocritus, 29. The tendency to play with metres in the effort 
to produce something which might appeal to the eye shows 
very clearly that the poetry of the Alexandrine period was no 
longer truly lyric, that it was intended to be read, not sung. In 
the attempt to produce verses which in the written form might 
resemble some concrete object, as an ax, or an egg, or an altar, or 
a shepherd’s pipe, or the wings of love, series of lines of gradu- 
ally diminishing length were employed, and so the pentapody 
was naturally made to do duty in its turn, or else a line of the 
same general length, as a syncopated hexapody. Theocritus, 
Simmias, Dosiadas, Besantinus, all show examples. In these 
artificial attempts the writers made use of the most familiar 
forms, the dactylic, the iambic (such as were cited from Archil- 
ochus) and the Phalaecean. 

Of the tragic poets we find in Aeschylus a preference for the 
early types, the dactylic being the only form used in the Eumen- 
ides. In his logaoedic pentapodies he rarely uses tribrachs (in 
most cases there is a difference of opinion as to the arrangement 
of the lines); still less two dactyls, Sept. c. Theb. 321 being the 
only example that is generally admitted; syncopation at the 
beginning of the line is found in four of the plays. The Doric 
pentapody does not show itself except in the Prometheus. In 
Sophocles we find in the main the same conditions except that he 
uses more than one dacty] in logaoedic lines with some freedom; 
pentanodies containing tribrachs seem certain only’ in Oed. Col. 
216, 218, 220, 222, where the lines are probably to be taken each 
as tripody + dipody. In Sophocles, too, there is but little of the 
Doric pentapody. In Euripides, on the other hand, there is much 
more of this form of verse, the number of lines in the Medea and 
the Andromache being especially large. In the treatment of 
logaoedic lines there is more freedom in his plays: tribrachs are 
used without hesitation, even three occurring on one line, Bacch. 
598 and Phoen. 1548 (here again editors are by no means agreed 
as to the arrangement). The largest number of pentapodies is 
found in the Medea, the smallest (1) in the Cyclops. Aeschylus 


‘Schmidt adds in his scheme of the choral odes Oed. Col. 1449 — 1464 
and Trach. 885. 


148 E. H. SPIEKER. 


has the largest number in the Agamemnon, Sophocles in the Ajax. 
The Antigone and the Oedipus Tyrannus, the best of the latter’s 
plays, show no certain examples: this is all the more striking as 
they are the only extant tragedies of which this may be said. 
Aristophanes has examples in the Acharnians (largely paeonic), 
Knights, Clouds, Birds, Thesmophoriazusae, Frogs and Ecclesi- 
azusae. The total number of occurrences in each of the dramatic 
poets is as follows: Aeschylus 119; Sophocles 52; Euripides 
183; Aristophanes 43. Compare with this a total of 833 for 
Pindar, 616 of which are dactylo-epitrite. 

Ordinarily pentapodies do not occur in immediate sequence in 
the choral odes : two together are found in Bacchylides (11 times) ; 
Pindar (84); Aeschylus (20); Sophocles (11); Euripides (22); 
Aristophanes (5): three together in Bacchylides (1); Pindar (8); 
Aeschylus (6); Euripides (10); Aristophanes (2): four together 
in Pindar (26): five together in Euripides(2). The two examples 
of five in immediate sequence are found in the Medea 410-416 = 
421-427. Some editors allow only three pentapodies here, read- 
ing the last two differently. While it is true that this large use 
stands alone, it is hard to believe that Schmidt is not right in 
his division of the lines and his scansion: certainly the lines make 
five perfect Doric pentapodies. The cases of four consecutive 
pentapodies in Pindar all occur in the fourth Pythian ode, one at 
the beginning of each strophe and antistrophe, and they are 
generally admitted ; they make the unusual instances of heaping 
in the Medea all the more likely. 

The pentapody associates itself not infrequently with dochmiac 
verses; it is then generally pro-odic, although other positions 
also occur. Of the three tragic poets Euripides shows this 
tendency most. 

In popular song we have first of all the monodactylic pentapody 
of the skolia found in the first fourteen of our collection. The use 
of two dactyls in 9, 11 and 12 has been referred to. 15 is an 
Alcaic stanza. 28 is written in monodactylic hexapodies and a 
tetrapody, closing with a pentapody which in the first strophe is 
a Sapphic line, in the second a Phalaecean. The Sapphic line 
occurs, too, at the end of 30. The Phalaecean is also found in the 
first of the carmina popularia if we accept, with Bergk, the reading 
πλεῖστον οὖλον ἵει, ἴουλον ἵει, in Athenaeus XIV 618 E, but the other 
reading which repeats the word οὖλον has good authority for it. 


THE PENTAPODY IN GREEK POETRY. 149 


This popular use is reflected in Aristophanes Eccl. 938-9 = 942-3. 
Two instances of the Phalaecean among iambic trimeters are met 
with in Aristophanes, Wasps, 1226-7, verse 1226 being a quotation 
of the first line of a skolion, and verse 1227 a comic continuation 
in the same metre. 

To sum up: the pentapody is used most frequently in those 
forms which most easily admit a separation into dipody and 
tripody (this includes all Doric pentapodies and a considerable 
number of logaoedics as well, especially those which begin or 
end inacretic or achoriamb); most of the certain pentapodies 
which remain are of the logaoedic type, the familiar monodactylic 
lines being most important, although many other forms are used, 
especially in Pindar and Euripides; the dactylic group is fairly 
represented in all periods, while least frequent of all are the 
iambic, the trochaic and the cretic. 

Joxuns Hopxins UNIVERSITY. E. H. SPIEKER. 


ἦν 
ἣ HU ᾿ 


fis 0 
ἀν, i 





HORACE AND LUCILIUS: A STUDY OF HORACE 
SERM:, £10: 


The fourth satire of the first book of Horace deals with the 
legacy of literary theory which the practice of Lucilius had be- 
queathed to Roman literature, rather than with the great satirist 
himself. But the somewhat subtle repudiation of the spirit of 
Lucilius, which was the main argument of that composition, had 
provoked the jealous champions of the founder of Roman satire 
less than the brief words of censure directed against his slovenly 
form. The result was to bring the personality of Lucilius promi- 
nently into the quarrel with the theory of satire which Horace 
had inaugurated. Returning now to the censure of form, which 
he had made before, Horace adds direct and emphatic criticism 
of the spirit of Lucilius, but his vehemence is evoked rather by 
the hostility of living enemies than by antipathy to the dead poet. 
Horace, in the progress of his own development, had come to 
feel that satire in the spirit of Lucilius was illiberal, or at all events 
alien to his own nature, and in the fourth poem of this book had 
set forth his protest in an impersonal way.’ But no writer so 
young and with so brief a career behind him could challenge the 
position of a national figure like Lucilius with impunity. His 
protest had been met with hot counter-protest, and under the 
fresh smart of hostile criticism this composition is written. In its 
present form it is apparently the last of all in the first book, but 
in its conception and first execution it must have followed quickly 
upon the hostile reception accorded to the fourth. 


Nempe incomposito dixi pede currere versus 
Lucili. Quis tam Lucili fautor inepte est, 
ut non hoc fateatur? at idem, quod sale multo 
urbem defricuit, charta laudatur eadem. 
5 nec tamen hoc tribuens dederim quoque cetera: nam sic 
et Laberi mimos ut pulchra poemata mirer. 


1 Cf. the writer’s article in A. J. P., vol. xxi, pp. 121 ff., Horace, Serm.I 4: 
A Protest and a Programme. 


152 GEORGE LINCOLN HENDRICKSON. 


The poet points out that the praise which he had awarded to 
Lucilius has its sharp limitations and is far from being general. 


Ergo non satis est risu diducere rictum 
auditoris ;} et est quaedam tamen hic quoque virtus: 


If these words are to apply to Lucilius as well as to Laberius (as 
must of course be the case), it is not the laughter of mere clown- 
ishness which is meant, but the bitter laughter provoked by 
harsh and abusive jest? such as Horace describes (in I 4, 35 and 
78 ff.) as the characteristic aim of satire as usually conceived. 
But in admitting that mere ability to provoke a laugh is a merit, 
and in implying that this is the only ground of recognition which 
he is willing to concede to Lucilius, Horace shows that he had 
meant to limit the praise which he had formerly bestowed upon 
his predecessor. And so in the following verses, while he does 
not deny that Lucilius had developed some features of the style 
and spirit of satire, he sets over against these qualities certain 
ideal demands which he misses in the earlier poet. 


est brevitate opus, ut currat sententia neu se 
Io impediat verbis lassas onerantibus auris, 

et sermone opus est modo tristi, saepe iocoso, 

defendente vicem modo rhetoris atque poetae, 

interdum urbani, parcentis viribus atque 

extenuantis eas consulto. 


The wide divergence of commentators in the detailed interpre- 
tation of these words seems to demand a careful effort to arrive 
at the poet’s exact meaning. Concerning $drevitate there is of 
course no room for dispute, but with the second precept the 
difficulties begin. Inthe phrase sermone tristi the editors and 
critics are apparently unanimous in giving a false interpretation 


1 Auditoris: ‘Man erwartet vielmehr entweder /ectoris, oder im Anschluss 
an die Exemplification auf Laberius spectatoris: aber der Witz setzt 
eigentlich Hérer voraus’ (Kiessling). The word is drawn rather from the 
theoretical discussions of the proper limits of jest, which take account not 
only of that which it is right to say, but also of that which it is fitting to 
hear (hence ἀκούειν and ὁ ἀκούων, Arist. Eth. Nic., IV 14, passim). 

2 Sale multo urbem defricuit (cf. Plutarch, Comp. Arist. et Men. 4: οἱ δὲ 
᾿Αριστοφάνους ἅλες, πικροὶ καὶ τραχεῖς ὄντες, ἑλκωτικὴν δριμύτητα καὶ δηκτικὴν 
ἔχουσιν), with which cf. Persius’ reminiscence: secuit Lucilius urbem. For 
Laberius cf. Macrobius’ characterization, Sat. 11 7,2: asperae libertatis 
equitem Romanum. 


HORACE AND LUCILIUS. 153 


to ¢ristiz. But it does not here mean ‘serious’ or ‘earnest’. It 
defines accurately the harsh means by which Lucilius provoked 
the laughter of his reader with the language of abuse or invec- 
tive. It designates the cutting jest which aims to hurt and not 
to please, as in Serm. II 1, 21: quanto rectius hoc quam ¢77s¢z 
laedere versu.' It is the quality of satire in Lucilius which 
Horace has above praised, but praised with reserve. And so 
here, against a quality to which he does not deny occasional 
merit (modo), he places the frequent (saefe) or constant require- 
ment of a tone of playful humor (zocoso). As elsewhere, the 
theory of satire which Horace presents is identical with the post- 
Aristotelian theory of comedy, which demanded a union of τὸ 
πικρόν (σφοδρόν) with τὸ χαρίεν. In the succeeding lines—defen- 
dente vicem modo rhetoris atque poetae, interdum* urbani—there 
is present the same relation of balance or antithesis between a 
characteristic which Horace recognizes in Lucilius, and a quality 
which he demands but fails to find in him. While it is clear that 
the latter quality, the subtle εἰρωνεία of the uvdanus, is the requisite 
which Horace misses in Lucilius, unfortunately we are scarcely 
in a position to determine how far there was reason to censure 
him for excess of poetical or oratorical qualities of style. But 
Juvenal may afford an illustration of the dangers in this direction 
to which the satirical spirit, untempered by a kindly humor, 
is exposed.t Furthermore, the portion of the fourth satire, in 
which Horace denies poetical character to his own work (and 
to Lucilius), is scarcely intelligible except on the assumption 


1 Similarly the criminosi iambi of Carm.1 16,2 are the ¢ristia of vs, 26 
ib., and cf. Lucil. 963 (Lach.): idque tuis saevis factis et ¢ristibw’ dictis. 

2 Cf. Platonius 7. cou, (Dibner II), in characterization of Aristophanes, 
and the writer’s Excursus on the Theory of Satire in Persius, A. J. P., vol. 
XXI (1900), p. 140, to which add Hermogenes’ definition cited below 
(Ρ. 155). 

3. Interdum merely gives variety to the enumeration, and is not to be 
taken strictly in the meaning of ‘sometimes’ (zuweilen), as L. Miiller 
understands it, making this objectionable meaning a ground for changing 
urbani to urbane. The usage is well shown by Propertius I 3, 41, who 
has modo... rursus.., interdum, and II 15, 5 (III 7,5 Mil.) modo... 
interdum. 

4Cf. Juvenal’s lines VI 634 ff.: fingimus haec altum satura sumente 
cothurnum ἢ} scilicet, etc.—which are perhaps a truer characterization than 
the poet meant to give of himself. 


154 GEORGE LINCOLN HENDRICKSON. 


that literary criticism had attributed to Lucilius poetical qualities 
which were alien to the spirit and purpose of satire, and which 
may have been derived from Greek criticism of the old comedy 
when once the dogma of Lucilian imitation had been established: 
ἡ δὲ παλαιὰ (ἔχει) τὸ δεινὸν (rheloris) καὶ ὑψηλὸν (Poetae) τοῦ λόγου 
(π. kop. V VS. 7). 

From the time of Lambinus it has been recognized that the 
words urbani parcentis viribus atgue || extenuantis eas consulto 
are an endeavor to interpret the Greek εἴρων, a type of refinement 
and subtlety which Horace, among Roman writers, is one of the 
first to attempt to characterize. And more effective than the 
scathing wit of Lucilius is the playful humor of the εἴρων: 


Ridiculum acri 
15 fortius et melius magnas plerumque secat res. 


It isa precept of Gorgias which had become the common property 
of rhetorical theory: δεῖν ἔφη Topyias τὴν μὲν σπουδὴν διαφθείρειν τῶν 
ἐναντίων γέλωτι (Arist. Rhet. II] 18). The forms of jest, Aristotle 
continues, have been named in the Poetics and the gentleman 
must select a form appropriate to himself. ἔστι δ᾽ ἡ εἰρωνεία (cor- 
responding to rzdiculum, as defined in the preceding urbanz 
parcentis, etc.) τῆς βωμολοχίας (corresponding to acri, as defined 
by the preceding description visu diducere rictum and sermone 
tristi) ἐλευθεριώτερον (ib. extr.). But as the doctrine had become 
common property we need not suppose that Horace had the 
words of Aristotle in mind.’ 


16 Illi, scripta quibus comoedia prisca viris est, 
hoc stabant, hoc sunt imitandi: quos neque pulcher 
Hermogenes umquam legit, neque simius iste 
nil praeter Calvum et doctus cantare Catullum. 


It has been observed that in many respects, not only in this 
satire but also in the fourth, the attitude of Horace toward 
Lucilius is analogous to Aristotle’s relation to the old comedy. 
But an important difference should be noted, due to the fact that 


1Cf, Ribbeck, Uber den Begriff des εἴρων, Rh, Mus. vol. XX XI (1876), 
p. 389‘In den vergrébernden Nachbildungen [der attischen Komédie] der 
Romer ist der Zug so gut wie verloren gegangen’. 

2 Similarly the author of the Rhet. ad Alex. ch. 35: χρὴ δὲ ἐν ταῖς κακολογίαις 
(to which satire as a carmen maledicum is related) εἰρωνεύεσθαι. 


HORACE AND LUCILIUS. 155 


Horace does not wholly share Aristotle’s point of view." The 
latter had repudiated the spirit and style of the old comedy 
without any reservations. But this sweeping condemnation did 
not prevail among later critics. Plutarch, to be sure, is animated 
by the same spirit of hostility in his Comparison of Aristophanes 
and Menander, but for the most part subsequent literary theory, 
while recognizing in the old comedy the scurrilous wit which 
Aristotle condemned, found in it also a liberal spirit of jest, and 
justified the presence of both (et est quaedam hic quoque virtus). 
From such criticism was developed the general formulation of 
comic theory (Hermogenes, π. μεθόδου δεινότητος, ch. 36, Sp. II, p. 
455, 18): κωμῳδίας δὲ πλοκὴ πικρὰ (4471) καὶ γελοῖα (ridiculum). A 
striking illustration of this estimate of old comedy, so different 
from Aristotle’s, is found in Cicero, in an ethical passage on the 
limits of appropriate jest, which is otherwise thoroughly Aristote- 
lian. For, in illustration of the liberal jest, he names Atticorum 
antigua comoedia (De offic. I 104). Similarly Persius, although 
like Cicero reproducing the Aristotelian theory of the legitimate 
forms of humor, nevertheless names the three canonical writers 
of old comedy as ideal representatives of the appropriate spirit 
in satire (Sat. I 123 ff., with which cf. V 16). 

It is this point of view which Horace also represents in the 
verses above. Hoc stabant cannot grammatically, and does not 
logically refer to the whole description preceding (as many edi- 
tors interpret), except in so far as the sum of the preceding is 
contained in ridiculum acri,; etc. Atall events xzdiculum takes 
up the essence of the description of the uvdanus in verse 13. 
Thus, like Cicero and Persius, Horace praises the writers of the 
old comedy for their command of an appropriate and becoming 
form of jest. Hoc sunt imitandi—in their command of this 
quality (vzdiculum), rather than in their use of the acre, are the 
writers of the old comedy to be imitated, as they were not imi- 
tated by Lucilius. For though he is proclaimed as an emulator 
of them, it is only in their license of speech and their harsh wit 
that he has reproduced them. But Hermogenes and Demetrius 


1It has seemed necessary for the interpretation of vss, 16 ff. to repeat 
here in summary, matter which the author has presented more fully in the 
A, J. P., vol. XXI (1900), pp. 140 ff. 

2Cf, Porphyrio ad loc,: ad id autem pertinet Aoc stadant, quod dixerit 
ridiculum acrt, etc. 


156 GEORGE LINCOLN HENDRICKSON. 


(simius iste?), with their affected admiration for Lucilius and 
their resentment of all criticism of him, have never read a play 
of the old comedy, and in prating of him as a Roman Aristo- 
phanes or Cratinus, they do not know that he failed to take from 
those writers that in which their chief strength lay. 

This passage yields incidentally an important result for the 
history of Roman satire, for it shows that the dogma of Lucilius’ 
relation to the old comedy was not an invention of Horace (as 
Kiessling, ad Serm. I 4, 6, held), but was a current formulation 
of the genesis of Roman satire in Horace’s day. It is perhaps 
somewhat surprising to find the friends of Lucilius and the critics 
of Horace among the quondam νεώτεροι, a school of poetry which 
we are not wont to associate with the patriotic and national 
tendencies which kept fresh the fame of Lucilius. But in lieu 
of fuller information concerning the literary tastes and affinities 
of this school, it will suffice to point out that Valerius Cato, the 
friend of Catullus and the professional representative of the 
group—dqui solus legit et facit poetas—is the open champion of 
Lucilius,* 

An interpretation of the whole satire is not now contemplated, 
but only a treatment of the parts bearing upon Horace’s estimate 
of Lucilius, in which current interpretations seemed to require 
correction or more accurate definition. Therefore the criticism 
of Lucilius for interspersing Greek with Latin words may be 
passed over, as well as Horace’s justification of his choice of satire 
as a medium of literary expression. At verse 50 he returns to 
his indictment of the form of Lucilius, and defends himself against 
the imputation of affecting superiority to his predecessor because 
he claims the right of criticism, which Lucilius himself had freely 
used. 

53 nil comis tragici mutat Lucilius Acci? 


The words are uttered in a tone of ironical interrogation, as 
Porphyrio points out,’ and the irony is contained not only in 


1 Defensore tuo, in the doubtful verses prefaced to this satire in MSS 
of the III class. 

* Et hoc interrogativa figura cum ironia quadam pronuntiandum, quia 
ex contrario intellegendum est. comzs autem Lucilius propter urbanitatem 
dicitur, et mutat pro eo quod est emendat positum est. Porphyrio com- 
ments on the two words in which the irony lies. What he means by 


HORACE AND LUCILIUS. 157 


mutat, but also in comzs. Besides ironical reference to the usual 
meaning ‘kindly’, comzs perhaps contains suggestion of an 
etymological word play upon κωμῳδός (κωμῳδεῖν), evoked by jux- 
taposition of comzs with ¢rvagicz, and by the analogous relation 
of the poets of the old comedy to their tragic contemporaries.” 


56 Quid vetat et nosmet Lucili scripta legentis 
quaerere, num illius, num rerum dura negarit 
versiculos natura magis factos et euntis 
mollius ac siquis pedibus quid claudere senis, 

60 hoc tantum contentus, amet scripsisse ducentos 
ante cibum versus, totidem cenatus? Etrusci 
quale fuit Cassi rapido ferventius amni 
ingenium, capsis quem fama est esse librisque 
ambustum propriis. 


Horace selects two possible explanations for the harshness of 
Lucilius’ verse. They are not alternative, but parallel, for both 
are true. As for the first, it presents no difficulties ; as the spirit 
of the man was harsh, so the form of his verse was the expression 
of it, and lacked that smoothness of movement which a kindlier 
nature would have found as the vehicle of its thought. Itisa 
type of criticism which is not uncommon.’ Concerning rerum 
natura some have thought that it designates the general crude- 
ness of the time, but there is no reason for deserting the natural 
significance of the words—the harsh nature of the subject-matter 
(res = πράγματα). But why should Horace suggest an excuse for 
Lucilius which he does not invoke for himself? Or why should 
Lucilius find the matter of satire a more difficult material to 
handle than the Greek satirists, Archilochus and the comic poets? 
It is not only that the matter was in itself difficult,* but chiefly 
the form chosen by Lucilius which made it so. For while the 
Greek iambic and comic poets had employed the natural conver- 
sational metres, the trochaic and iambic, Lucilius had endeavored 


urbanitas may be seen by his comment on vs, 3 of this satire: salem pro 
urbanitate posuit, and especially ad Serm. I 3, 40: Luciliana urbanitate 
usus in transitu amaritudinem aspersit. 

1 Cf. Déderlein, Kiessling, and Orelli-Mewes ad loc. 

*Cf. Cicero, Brutus 101: C. Fannius ... et moribus et ipso genere 
dicendi durior. ib. 117: Q. Aelius Tubero ... ut vita sic oratione durus 
incultus horridus, 

3 Cf. Epp. II 1, 168 on the difficulty of comedy—ex medio quia res arcessit. 


158 GEORGE LINCOLN HENDRICKSON. 


to cast the familiar matter of social and personal satire intoa 
form which had only been employed in Latin for the epic.” And 
it can scarcely be denied that the hexameters of Lucilius reveal 
a certain uncouth, plunging movement, even in more finished 
specimens of his work, such as the lines on virtus, the metrical 
effect of which Mommsen compares to and renders by German 
‘Knittelverse’ (doggerel).? On the other hand “the fragments 
of his trochaics and iambics are much simpler, much less depart 
from the natural order of the words, than those of his hexameters; 
a fact which reminds us of the great advance made by Horace in 
adapting the heroic measure to the familiar experience of life 
(Sellar, p. 248).” The subject-matter therefore is harsh in rela- 
tion to the form chosen for its expression. 

Thus, for either or both of the reasons named, the verses of 
Lucilius are so ill-made and have so rough a movement, that his 
aim would seem to have been only to put together, somehow or 
other, hexameters in quantity, with the result that the bulk of his 
writing is so great that it would have furnished fuel for his funeral 
pyre, as is the story of Cassius Etruscus. Here, as in the fourth 
satire (vs. 14), Horace turns the edge of his attack by the use of 
an illustration. As there Crispinus is the foil, so here Cassius 
Etruscus, but in both cases, of course, the underlying criticism is 
directed against Lucilius. 

Fuerit Lucilius inquam 
65 comis et urbanus, fuerit limatior idem 
quam rudis et Graecis intacti carminis auctor 
quamque poetarum seniorum turba: sed 1116, 


si foret hoc nostrum fato delapsus in aevum, 
detereret sibi multa, etc. 


It is commonly held that the poet here turns from criticism of 
Lucilius to recognition of his good qualities, and that accordingly - 
inguam harks back to the praise bestowed in verses 3 and 53; 
but quite incorrectly. The passage grows immediately out of the 
preceding inquiry into the reasons for the harshness of Lucilius’ 
verse. Horace has named as explanations of it the harsh nature 
of the poet himself, and the harshness of his subject-matter in 


1That Horace only takes account of the hexameters of Lucilius in his 
criticisms appears from Ser. I 4, 6 and vs. 59 above. Cf. Luc. Miiller, 
Quaest. Lucil. p. XIII (brief and results inconclusive). 

2 History of Rome (6th German ed.), vol. II p. 446. 


HORACE AND LUCILIUS. 159 


relation to the form chosen. Now he turns the same thought 
about in the form of two hypothetical concessions: ‘Grant that 
his nature was kindly and urbane, grant that he was more 
finished than was to have been expected of a pioneer in a form 
_of poetry as yet unhewn (7vzdis) and unshaped by the hands of 
Greek predecessors.’ It will be seen that z//ius dura natura is 
balanced in the concessive form by comis et urbanus, while rerum 
dura natura, as an explanation of the crude form of Lucilius, is 
offset by limatior guam rudis et Graects intactt carminis auctor. 
Together the two concessive clauses introduced by /uerzt, com- 
prehend the spirit and the form of Lucilius. 

Horace has already pointed out that, in contrast to the vehe- 
mence of Lucilius, there was place in satire for the more subtle 
wit of the wrvdanus. He has said in verse 7 that Lucilius’ con- 
ception of wit was coarse, and in verses 14-17 he has contrasted 
the means by which his effects were produced with the more 
successful humor and banter of the old comedy, which he was 
supposed to have imitated. Finally in the passage just preceding 
he has designated the nature of Lucilius as harsh. Does Horace 
then in fact mean to yield any one of these hypothetical conces- 
sions which he makes with the iterated fwerzt? Certainly not. 
It is a familiar manner of giving cumulative force to an argument 
by conceding for argument’s sake that which it is well understood 
is not conceded in fact. ‘Even if I granted all this concerning 
Lucilius, I should still hold that he must have written very differ- 
ently if he were to satisfy the demands of the present. How 
much more so, since he was not kindly nor urbane, since he did 
not even satisfy the demands we may justly make of a pioneer, 
and since he is not more finished than many of the older poets.’ 
As a matter of grammatical usage it is probably superfluous to 
point out that this form of concessive expression may or may 
not contain the writer’s real thought or the objective fact... The 
characteristic feature of the construction is that the admission is 
made for argument’s sake. Consequently the number of instances 


1On the construction cf. Madvig 353 (English trans]. 352): Eine An- 
nahme oder Einréumung von etwas das sich nicht so verhdlt oder das man 
unentschieden lasst und nicht bestreiten will ἃ. 5. w. Examples in Roby 
1622. Cases where the concession is clearly not in accordance with the 
writer’s feeling or the fact, Liv. 44, 38 (quarta pars ... relicta erat. sed 
fuerimus omnes), Cic. De fin. II 61. 


160 GEORGE LINCOLN HENDRICKSON. 


is large where it is plain that the concession does not represent 
the real thought of the writer or the fact, and indeed, even where 
it does, there is frequently a reservation of feeling which implies 
its untruth. Therefore in designating Lucilius as comzs et ur- 
anus,’ Horace makes a concession contrary to his own belief and 
feeling for the sake of adding cumulative force to his argument. 
That the words do not represent Horace’s own thought may 
be seen finally from /imatior ... quamque poetarum seniorum 
turba. For though it is true that Horace is not friendly to any 
of the earlier Roman poets, we cannot readily believe that he 
failed to recognize, for example, the immense inferiority of 
Lucilius to Terence in elegance and finish. 

There remain but one or two points which we may regard as 
criticism of Lucilius. If he were alive to-day 


detereret sibi multa, recideret omne quod ultra 
70 perfectum traheretur, et in versu faciendo 
saepe caput scaberet, vivos et roderet unguis. 


Porphyrio comments: non cessat autem Lucilium tangere quasi 
incuriose scripserit, nor need we hesitate to refer the words which 
follow to criticism of Lucilius, although such reference is appar- 
ently not entertained by many editors and is expressly repudiated 
by some. 


Saepe stilum vertas, iterum quae digna legi sint 
scripturus, neque te ut miretur turba labores, 
contentus paucis lectoribus. an tua demens 

75 vilibus in ludis dictari carmina malis? 
non ego: nam satis est equitem mihi plaudere, ut audax, 
contemptis aliis, explosa Arbuscula dixit. 


'The epithets, although chosen to offset Horace’s own words above 
(¢llius dura natura, vs. 57) may well represent a current characterization 
of Lucilius by his admirers. Cf. Οἷς. De orat. 1 72 (homo perurbanus) 
and De fin. 1 7 (urbanitas summa). In Serm. I 4, 90 Horace criticises the 
indulgent habit of giving complimentary names to indiscriminating license 
of speech ; hic tibi coms e¢ urbanus liberque videtur. 

* See Sellar, p. 248, who refers to Munro’s criticism in the Journal of 
Phil. VII 294 4. v. It will be remembered that Horace has reproduced 
almost verbatim a considerable passage of the Eunuchus (46 ff.= Serm. II 
3, 259 ff.), and that in the Epistle to Augustus and the Ars Poetica 
Terence escapes the censure which is so generously apportioned to Plautus, 
Ennius and Accius. 


HORACE AND LUCILIUS. 161 


men moveat cimex Pantilius, aut cruciet quod 
vellicet absentem Demetrius, aut quod ineptus 

80 Fannius Hermogenis laedat conviva Tigelli? 
Plotius et Varius, Maecenas Vergiliusque, 
Valgius et probet haec Octavius optimus atque 
Fuscus et haec utinam Viscorum laudet uterque. 
ambitione relegata te dicere possum, 

85 Pollio, te, Messalla, tuo cum fratre, simulque 
vos, Bibule et Servi, simu: his te, candide Furni, 
compluris alios, doctos ego quos et amicos 
prudens praetereo: quibus haec, sint qualiacumque, 
adridere velim, doliturus, si placeant spe 

90 deterius nostra. 


But one who has followed the strong personal feeling of this 
satire through from its initial words will not readily believe that 
criticism of Lucilius subsides so suddenly at this point, and passes 
over into merely general precept on the demands of finished exe- 
cution. Horace has said above rather extravagantly (vs. 51) that 
there was more in Lucilius that deserved to be eliminated than to 
be left ; but as in verse 61 he dulls the point of his keenest shaft by 
the insertion of a comparison, so here (vs. 72) he puts in the form 
of an universal rule a statement which his audience (and certainly 
the hostile critics to whom he is addressing himself) cannot well 
have understood otherwise than as a judgment that Lucilius was 
scarcely worth a second reading. Again in the words following 
(neque te ut miretur), in the form of a general injunction, the 
poet declares the audience for whom he writes, and not without 
contrast to what he esteems the vulgar popularity of Lucilius, or 
perhaps even in contrast to a well-known utterance of the latter 
concérning the audience to which he made his appeal (in book 
XXVI). At all events one cannot fail to recall in this connection 
the publica eruditorum reiectio (Pliny, N. H. praef. 7) of Lucilius, 
which was expressed in words which Munro’ reconstructs thus: 


Nec doctissimis scribuntur haec neque indoctissimis: 
Persium non curo legere, Laelium Decumum volo, 


The passage is brief and the reconstruction of actual words is not 
certain, but the use made of it by Cicero and Pliny leaves no 
doubt about the general meaning.? Certainly it is an interesting 


1 Journal of Philology, vol. VIII (1879), p. 210. 
* Cf. De orat. II 25: Lucilius... dicere solebat ea quae scriberet neque 


ab indoctissimis se neque ab doctissimis legi velle, etc. Madvig, ad De 
1 


162 GEORGE LINCOLN HENDRI CKSON. 


commentary on the great popularity of Lucilius if he did in fact 
(as seems to have been the case) make open profession that he 
wrote for the average man, and not for a select literary circle. 
Horace on the other hand is content with few readers, men of 
whose judgment (doctz vs. 87) and friendship (amzcz ib.) he is 
assured. He will not read to any but his friends and even to them 
only under compulsion (I 4,73), nor does he care to see his books 
thumbed by the sweaty fingers of the rabble (ib. 72). The whole 
passage breathes the arrogance of an exclusive literary coterie, 
conscious of ideals beyond those which had hitherto satisfied a 
democratic taste ; in its conscious contrast to the professed aim 
of Lucilius, it forms a fitting and triumphant conclusion to the 
warfare of protest which the poet had raised against undiscrim- 
inating admiration of elements of harshness in the spirit and form 
of satire, to which the force of an almost binding tradition had 
been given. 

The purpose of this analysis has been to ascertain as carefully 
as possible, and without reference to utterances of a later time, 
the attitude of Horace toward Lucilius as expressed in this com- 
position.’ It will be seen that only in the general recognition of 
his predecessor as the originator of the poetical form, and in 
acknowledgment of his skill in the employment of the harshest 
weapons of satire, does he treat Lucilius with consideration. His 
condemnation extends not only to the form but also to the spirit 
of the earlier satirist. In contrast with this severe arraignment 
is the first satire of the second book, with its frank and generous 
recognition of some admirable qualities in Lucilius and an avowal 
of discipleship, which neither this poem nor the fourth of this 
book contains. It belongs to a later time and sounds a note of 
assured position and success, which is no longer disturbed by the 
hostility of carping critics. But the generous treatment which 
it accords to Lucilius has done not a little to obscure the fact 


fin. I 7, suspects that different utterances of Lucilius are in Cicero’s mind 
in the two allusions: altero non doctissimis nec tamen rudibus se scribere 
significabat, Laelii exemplo utens, altero indoctis et vulgo. 

1 The writer regrets that, in spite of diligent search, the dissertation of 
Herwig, Horatius quatenus recte de Lucilio iudicaverit, Halle, 1873, has 
remained inaccessible. 


HORACE AND LUCILIUS. 163 


that in this satire Horace’s criticism of ante is sweeping and 
uncompromising.’ 


EXCURSUS: GRAECIS INTACTI CARMINIS AUCTOR. 


The interpretation of this line has been given in the paraphrase 
above: ‘ More finished than was to have been expected of the 
pioneer in a form of poetry as yet unhewn and unshaped by 
the hands of Greek predecessors’. This is the conception of the 
passage which is implied in the comments of the scholiasts, it 
was held by the earliest modern editors, and since Hermann’s? 
defense of it has been entertained by many modern editors. It is 
criticised as grammatically impossible because Lucilius is appar- 
ently compared with himself. It must be acknowledged that the 
phrase is brief and open to the charge of obscurity, but there is 
no sphere of language so subject to short-cuts of expression as 
that of comparison. Nor is Lucilius here, strictly speaking, 
compared with himself. He is compared rather with an imag- 
inary auctor in circumstances like his own. A parallel which 
admits of no ambiguity is cited by Hermann from Tacitus, Hist. 
III 53: Litteras ad Vespasianum composuit iactantius quam ad 
principem.® The simplest and most natural confirmation of this 
view is afforded by verse 48, in which Horace alludes to Lucilius 
as the zzventor of satire.* 


1 The general attitude of interpretation toward this poem is expressed 
by K. F. Hermann’s (Disput. de sat. Rom, auct. Marburg 1841) comment 
on vs. 54: quum hoc Horatio per totam satiram propositum sit, ut quantum 
possit Lucilio concedat, modo ne curam et diligentiam in eo maiorem agno- 
scere cogatur, quam quae re vera in eius carminibus appareat, vel hac de 
causa δα interpretatio praeferenda erit, guae plus laudis in illum conferat. 
The favorable interpretation began in antiquity, so that against the obvious 
meaning of the language and the context, saepe ferentem || plura quidem 
tollenda relinguendis (vs. 50) was distorted into praise, and Zo//enda, as if 
excerpenda (v. Porph. ad I 4, 11), is interpreted by /audanda and imitanda, 
Ps.-Acro adloc. Cf, also Porphyrio on vs. 1. The comment of Ps.-Acro 
is probably drawn from Porphyrio (cf. Porphy. on I 4, 11), whose note is 
lost. It is probable that the distortion of Horace’s meaning is due to 
archaistic affinities, which Porphyrio elsewhere reveals. 

*K. F. Hermann, Disputatio de satirae Rom. auctore ex sententia 
Horatii Serm. I το, 66 (Marburg, 1841). 

3 See other examples ap. Hermann pp. 13-15. 

* But a zealous advocate of Ennius has faced the difficulty—with what 
success the reader may judge. On vs, 48 L. Miiller says: Lucilius heisst 


164 GEORGE LINCOLN HENDRICKSON. 


The criticism which has done most to displace this interpre- 
tation, and to cause preference to be given very widely to the 
reference of the words to Ennius as the carminis auctor, is the 
fact that in Serm. I 4 Horace has already said that Lucilius is a 
close follower of the old comedy, and therefore can here scarcely 
affirm with consistency that Lucilius in taking up satire found 
it Graecis intactam. This objection has already been met by 
pointing out that the harshness of Lucilius’ subject-matter did 
not so much lie in the subject-matter itself, as in the treatment of 
it in a metrical form not appropriate to its nature. In relation to 
the hexameter the ves were as yet rough and unhewn, for the 
practice of Greek predecessors had not pointed the way to the 
successful employment of this verse for the familiar matter of 
satire. The reference, it will be seen, is to form and not to con- 
tent, and the passage therefore in no way comes into conflict with 
the affirmation of Lucilius’ dependence on the old comedy, a 
dependence which is expressly stated to have been one of spirit 
and not of form (#utatis tantum pedibus numerisque). And what 
else than allusion to form can /imatior contain? Obviously the 
labor limae by which the raw material is wrought into a work of 
art is a question primarily of form, and the more naturally so in 
view of the sharper distinction between form and content which 
belongs to all ancient literary theory. This is furthermore the 
interpretation of Porphyrio, who says against the lemma Gvaecis 
intacti carminis auctor: hoc ideo dictum, quia nulli Graecorum 
hexametris versibus hoc genus operis scripserunt. (That Horace 
has in mind only the hexameter verse of Lucilius has been 
indicated). The status then in Horace’s time of the inquiry into 
the relation of Lucilius to predecessors was, that in matter and 
spirit he drew from the old comedy, but that in form he was 
independent of Greek models. It is probably this conclusion 
which, with patriotic exaggeration, Quintilian represents in the 
famous words satura quidem tota nostra est.’ 


dem Horaz inventor weil er die urspriingliche Satura erst in die gute 
Gesellschaft eingefiihrt hat. Compare with this the same editor’s note 
on vs. 66: Gemeint ist Ennius der durch seine sechs oder mehr Biicher 
Satiren zuerst die altrémische Satura in die Literatur einfiihrte. 
1Quintilian groups the non-dramatic Greek poets with reference to 
metrical form, viz., the writers of hexameter, elegiac, iambic, and lyric 
verse. The Roman poets are arranged in the same order, except that, 


HORACE AND LUCILIUVS. 165 


Supplementary, but by no means contradictory, to this conclu- 
sion, is the account of Roman satire which is presented by the 
Byzantine writer Johannes Lydus in his treatise De magistratibus 
γε. Rom. Although of doubtful absolute value for the history 
of satire, yet it affords an interesting illustration of the philo- 
logical methods which constructed many of the ancient data of 
literary history, and casts some light on the particular question 
in hand. Ina literary digression on the beginnings of the drama 
at Rome, Lydus enumerates the various forms of comedy, and 
among them the Ῥινθωνική, which is the occasion for a further 
digression concerning Rhinthon, és ἑξαμέτροις ἔγραψε πρῶτος κωμῳδίαν. 
ἐξ οὗ πρῶτος λαβὼν τὰς ἀφορμὰς Aovkidtos 6 Ῥωμαῖος ἡρωικοῖς ἔπεσιν 
ἐκωμῴδησε. μεθ᾽ ὃν καὶ τοὺς per’ αὐτόν, ods καλοῦσι Ρωμαῖοι σατυρικούς, 
οἱ νεώτεροι τὸν Κρατίνου καὶ Εὐπόλιδος χαρακτῆρα ζηλώσαντες τοῖς μὲν 
‘PivOwvos μέτροις, τοῖς δὲ τῶν μνημονευθέντων διασυρμοῖς χρησάμενοι τὴν 
σατυρικὴν ἐκράτυναν κωμῳδίαν (1 41). ‘Stuff and nonsense’ (tolles 
Zeug) is L. Miiller’s comment, and indeed this seems to be the 
general verdict, with the exception of Kiessling (ad Serm. I 4,6), 
who believes that we have in this an authentic account of the 
genesis of Lucilian satire going back to Varro.’ 

The text is not perhaps free from corruption. At all events 
there is a difficulty of grammatical interpretation here which has 
not received attention, although the meaning of the whole pas- 
sage depends upon it. For if, as Leo and Marx point out, ped’ ὃν 


following the elegy, a place is given to satire, for which there is no 
corresponding Greek category. The allotment of position would seem to 
have been determined by metrical considerations, in order to place here 
the remaining writers of hexameter; because the humorous and critical 
tone of satire differentiated them sharply from the serious writers of 
the same verse, and made it inappropriate to group them simply with 
those who employed the heroic measure. Satire therefore is given an 
independent position, and because there were no canonical Greek writers 
of satirical or comic matter in hexameters (for neither the pseudo-Homeric 
poems of parody nor the cynic σίλλοι received attention in the gramma- 
rians’ canon), this department is claimed for the Romans as exclusively 
theirs, 

1Cf. Leo, Hermes, vol. XXIV (1889), pp. S1 ff., and F. Marx, Int. Hexas, 
p. 11, Prog. Rostock 1888. The error which is common to all discussions 
of this passage is the failure to note that the source which Lydus repro- 
duces had no other purpose than to explain the origin of the hexameter 
verse in Lucilius and subsequent Roman satire. 


166 GEORGE LINCOLN HENDRICKSON. 


excludes Lucilius from the class of the imitators of old comedy, 
by the same argument the remainder of the phrase—(yera) τοὺς 
per’ αὐτόν, ods καλοῦσι Ῥωμαῖοι catruptxovs—excludes the other Roman 
satirists from this class, and leaves no place for the existence 
of any νεώτεροι, if such imitation did not begin until after 
Lucilius and after his successors. But in view of the uniform 
doctrine of Lucilius’ dependence on the old comedy, it cannot 
be doubted that the source of Lydus, at all events, gave the cur- 
rent version of the relation of satire and its founder to comedy. 
The meaning, which it would seem that the account must have 
contained, may be given therefore somewhat as follows: ‘From 
whose time (and including whom) on, the younger group of 
those whom the Romans call satirists, emulating the manner of 
Cratinus and Eupolis, making use of the metrical form of Rhin- 
thon and of the jesting criticism (διασυρμοῖς) of the comic poets 
mentioned, produced satire’ (τὴν σατυρικὴν κωμῳδίαν). The younger 
group, the νεώτεροι, to whom Lydus’ Greek has assigned so un- 
certain a place, are the representatives of the developed form of 
satire, Lucilius, Horace, Persius, Juvenal, in contrast to an older 
group, Ennius and Pacuvius, who used the name without devel- 
oping a fixed type in respect either to form or spirit. It is the 
same contrast which is given in Diomedes’ account of satire by 
the words sed olim carmen, etc., descriptive of the form before 
Lucilius, and in Quintilian by alterum illud etiam prius saturae 
genus.’ 

The essential point for our purpose is that the satire of Lucil- 


1 Although it would seem not improbable that Lydus has obscured his 
source, perhaps from ignorance of the separation of the satirists into two 
groups, yet it is perhaps worth while to suggest that an intelligible meaning 
can be restored to his words by a very slight change, thus: μεθ᾽ ὃν καὶ oi 
[MSS. τούς] μετ᾽ αὐτόν, οὃς καλοῦσι “Ῥωμαῖοι σατυρικούς, οἱ νεώτεροι, τὸν Kpartivov 
«tA. ‘After whom, those likewise (καὶ) after him, whom the Romans call 
satirists, viz., the younger group, emulating, etc,’ οἱ νεώτεροι is added as 
a corrective to the general designation σατυρικούς, as explained in the text. 
It is important to keep in mind that the purpose of the account is to set 
forth the relation of Lucilius and subsequent satire (hence the appropri- 
ateness of καὶ ‘likewise’) to Rhinthon in the matter of metrical form. 
The relation to old comedy is only incidental to the presentation of this 
discovery of the aetiological author of this account. Therefore the current 
doctrine of Lucilius’ indebtedness could be taken for granted as compre- 
hended in the general statement of the relation of the younger group of 


HORACE AND LUCILIUS. 167 


ius, and hence subsequent Roman satire, here receives a twofold 
explanation. Its form, that is the hexameter, was derived from 
Rhinthon, its matter and spirit from the old comedy. Whether 
there is any truth in the statement of Lucilius’ relation to Rhin- 
thon’ is a matter of indifference for our present inquiry, but at 
all events it casts some light on the questions in hand. We have 
seen that in Horace Lucilius is represented as having derived the 
spirit, but not the form, of his work from the old comedy; that 
in the matter of form, the employment of the hexameter, he was 
a pioneer. Thereupon some later philologian pointed out that 
the use of the heroic verse for the treatment of comic and satirical 
matter was not Graecis intactum, but had already been employed 
before Lucilius by Rhinthon, and in accordance with the hasty 
inductions of ancient philological science, affirmed that Lucilius 
had taken his metrical form from this source. The manner is well 
known. For every observed custom or phenomenon whether of 
national life or literature, the Greek or Roman antiquarian inves- 
tigator, yielding to a natural, but naive fondness for the objective 
and concrete in the explanation of origins, raised the question 
‘guts znvenzt’; and in accordance with the ingenuity and learn- 
ing of his answers earned the applause of his time and of posterity. 
It is thus that Cicero praises Aelius Stilo, antiquitatis nostrae et 
in inventis rebus et in actis scriptorumque veterum litterate peritus 
(Brutus 205), and the sum of Bibaculus’ praise of the philologian 
Valerius Cato is omnes solvere posse quaestiones (Suet. De 
grammaticis 11). Many examples of such explanations of cus- 
toms by reference to a specific zzventor as well as discussion of 
rival claimants, are to be found in the Quaestiones Romanae 
of Plutarch. In the field of literary history the habit is best 
characterized by the familiar lines of Horace: quis tamen ex- 
iguos elegos emiserit auctor || grammatici certant, etc. The 
satire of Lucilius presented to the Roman philologian a question 


Roman satirists to Cratinus and Eupolis. It is curious that Aristophanes 
is not named. The reason may be that the essence of old comedy is given 
by these two names, Cratinus for τὸ πικρόν, Eupolis for ἡ χάρις, Aristo- 
phanes’ pre-eminence consisted only in a combination of their character- 
istics (τὸν μέσον ἐλήλακε τῶν ἀνδρῶν χαρακτῆρα. Platonius 7. κωμ. II extr.), 

‘Whether Rhinthon composed works, whether of a dramatic or non- 
dramatic character, in hexametersis not clear. Cf. Leo, 1. c., p. 83, and 
Kaibel, Comic. Gr, frag., vol. I ἢ. 184. 


168 GEORGE LINCOLN HENDRICKSON. 


to be approached in this spirit. In Roman literature he was the 
first to employ unchallenged the satire of personal attack and 
invective. Was he the zzventor, or not? Doubtless there were 
those who championed his primacy in this field; but at an early 
time Roman philology had named as the source of his spirit the 
παρρησία of the old Attic comedy. The question of form presented 
a more baffling problem; but at some time in the history of 
Roman philology, perhaps even as late as a period subsequent 
to Juvenal, the question was solved, and the form and content 
of Roman satire were thus explained with reference to Greek 
sources. It is such a solution that this account presents. The 
method in both cases was the same, but the solution offered for 
the problem of form has no more claim to our consideration than 
the earlier effort to name a single source for the spirit of Roman 
satire. We now recognize that it is no more possible to name 
a single source of influence in the development of an individual 
genius of prolific vigor, than it is to trace the origin of a national 
or religious custom to a specific author or occasion. The one, 
like the other, is the product of a multitude of influences which 
in large part, must elude any effort of investigation. 
UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO. GEORGE LINCOLN HENDRICKSON. 


ἘΠΕ AIM AND RESULTS OF PLATO'S 
THEAETETUS: 


In one of his essays Matthew Arnold speaks of “the barren 
logomachies of Plato’s Theaetetus”’, and therein voices the im- 
pression which this dialogue leaves on the minds of many readers, 
to whom it seems a mere exhibition of dialectic,—capricious, ill- 
planned, accomplishing nothing and leading nowhither. Even 
such a scholar as Professor Kennedy in his edition (pp. 234-5), 
while admitting that there are certain miscellaneous positive 
results in the first thirty chapters, regards the subsequent elenchi 
as “little more than gladiatorial word-fights, intended by Plato to 
exercise and display the dialectic skill which he had acquired at 
Megara, and at the same time to amuse and puzzle the minds of 
his readers by the parables or myths of the waxen tablets and the 
dove-cage.”” Grote thought that Plato here “intends to qualify 
the mind for a life of philosophical research,” “to bestow a 
systematic training on the ratiocinative power” (p. 391); again, 
“Τὸ form in men’s minds this testing or verifying power, is one 
of the main purposes of Plato’s dialogues of search, and in some 
of them the predominant purpose, as he himself announces it to 
be in the Theaetetus’” (p. 338). Professor Jowett finds more in 
the dialogue than this: “‘ Like Theaetetus we have attained no 
definite result. But an interesting phase of ancient philosophy 
has passed before us. And the negative result is not to be 
despised. For on certain subjects, and in certain states of 
knowledge, the work of negation or clearing out the foundations 
must go on, perhaps for a generation, before the new structure 
can begin to rise. Plato saw the necessity of combating the 
illogical logic of the Megareans and Eristics. For the completion 
of the edifice, he makes preparations in the Theaetetus, and 
crowns the work in the Sophist’” (IV, p. 264). Zeller goes 


1 He refers probably to the concluding words of Socrates in the dialogue ; 
but this is an observation of a character in the drama, and can no more be 
ascribed to Plato, than the utterances of Hamlet, to Shakespeare. 


170 W. J. ALEXANDER. 


farther and includes the Zheaetetus among the dialogues which 
“point unmistakably to a time when Plato had already laid the 
corner stone of his system in the theory of ideas”’ (Plato, Eng. 
trans. p. 126), and in his brief analysis (pp. 171-3) shows a cer- 
tain nexus of thought in the successive arguments. 

It is the object of the present paper to combat such a view of 
the dialogue as is voiced in the phrase of Arnold or the quota- 
tions from Grote; to exemplify and expand the view hinted 
at by Zeller; to show in detail the purpose and results of 
the Zheaetetus. It is, upon the face of it, improbable that at 
the period of life and development at which Plato had arrived 
when this dialogue was written, his object should have been 
merely to represent the character and method of Socrates, or to 
give an exercise in intellectual gymnastics,—aims which were 
doubtless predominant in some of the earlier dialogues.’ 

An attempt will be made, in this paper, to show the presence 
of a plan in this dialogue: that the definitions follow one another 
in logical sequence; that in each a closer approximation is 
reached to a satisfactory (from Plato’s point of view) definition of 
knowledge; that in the examination of each definition results are 
attained, which are employed in the subsequent stages of the 
inquiry; that in the process an analysis and definition of various 
mental processes is made—a psychology indicated; and, finally, 
that there is an unspoken, but not, probably, an unconscious, 
trend of the thought to Plato’s characteristic solution of the 
problem of knowledge. Plato, the eclectic philosopher is here 
examining the theories of his predecessors and contemporaries as 
to knowledge; he submits them to the test of his dialectic 
battery ; certain positions are shattered, others are left standing— 
sound foundations, as our author thinks, upon which to erect the 
superstructure of his own theory of knowledge. It is true the 
superstructure is not erected, no satisfactory definition of knowl- 
edge is adduced; but the discussion is brought to such a point 
that the hypotheses by which Plato did meet the difficulty of the 
existence of knowledge—the hypothesis of “ideas” and of 
“reminiscence ”—are made natural or even inevitable. In show- 


1 Without attempting to fix very accurately the date of the Theaetetus, 
one may safely conclude from the historical indications of the prologue, 
general style, and philosophical content that this dialogue belongs to the 
middle period of the author’s literary activity. 


AIM AND RESULTS OF PLATO'S THEAETETUS. 171 


ing this, it will be needful to follow the thread of the dialogue, to 
emphasize the main points established, and to neglect many 
details and digressions. We must be careful, too, to take the 
standpoint of Plato and of his age; we must not, as Grote does, 
argue from the modern position, and suppose that whatever may 
be inept or illogical to us, must have seemed inept or illogical to 
Plato. A slight change in point of view or in expression will 
often serve to show that what seems at first sight absurd to 
a hasty modern reader is really a plausible, or even accepted, 
notion of our own day. In this connection we must not fail to 
bear in mind that to Plato ra ἀληθῆ and ra ὄντα are interchangeable 
terms; that the Greeks of that time had not separated the con- 
ceptions of truth and of reality. The axiom that, if a thing is true, 
it really exists lies at the basis of Plato’s theory of knowledge. 


I. 


The inquiry which is the subject of this dialogue is—What is 
knowledge? To this question Theaetetus, after a false start, 
answers that knowledge is sense-perception (αἴσθησις)---α defini- 
tion which has been credited to Aristippus, and which was 
at least current. This theory is at once identified with the 
doctrine of Protagoras, that man is the measure of all things, 
and with the Heraclitean principle that all things are ina state 
of flux. Grote takes exception to this identification as unfair 
to each of the three theories, and considers this portion of the 
dialogue as, in consequence, nugatory. But Plato’s main object 
here is not to present and combat philosophical systems. 
This: might be guessed even from the fact that the youthful 
Theaetetus is the person here submitted to Socrates’ dialectic, 
and not some competent protagonist of philosophy. There is 
a dramatic fitness in Plato’s selection of characters for his 
dialogues. When the subject is courage, Nicias and Laches 
are the fitting interlocutors; if temperance, the temperate 
Charmides; if it is the defects of the Sophists, Protagoras, 
Prodicus, and others are introduced upon the stage; when the 
ethics of the rhetoricians is discussed, Gorgias is present to 
see fair play, as it were, although a more manageable character 
than Gorgias maintains the discussion. But Theaetetus and 
Theodorus are not characters who could be supposed adequate 
to the defence of philosophical theories; nor is Plato intent 


172 W. J. ALEXANDER. 


on overthrowing philosophical opponents. Theaetetus is the 
impersonation of candour and common sense, and Plato is seeking 
for some account of knowledge which may commend itself to a 
fair and rational way of thinking. Now, from Plato’s point of 
view, if knowledge be sense-perception, man zs the measure of 
all things. For, as the discussion proceeds to show, sensations 
vary with different men; hence if sense-perceptions be true, not 
only is man the measure, but the things themselves (τὰ ὄντα) must 
also vary, and all things be in a state of flux. Plato, in short, 
accepts in regard to sensations, and also in regard to certain 
notions, such as “greater” and “less,” the principle of relativity ; 
that man is here the measure, and that these things are in a state 
of flux, i. e. have no permanence. 

Next (chapters XVI-XXVI) the doctrine of Protagoras is 
examined upon its own basis. Is the definition of Theaetetus for- 
gotten in a side issue? By no means; if Plato can overthrow the 
doctrine of Protagoras, and show that there are some things of 
which man is not the measure, some things in regard to which 
the opinion of one man is better than another, these things must 
lie outside the sphere of sensations; of them sense-perception will 
not be knowledge. The definition of knowledge as sense-per- 
ception will be overthrown as defective; for even if sense-percep- 
tion de knowledge, there will be some knowledge which is not 
sense-perception. 

Such is the connection of this part with the main line of the 
dialogue; let us follow the discussion itself. If sense-perception 
be knowledge, it is argued that animals, as possessing sensations, 
are as much the measure of truth as men—a reductio ad absurdum. 
Again, the world regards the opinions of certain men as having, 
in certain matters, greater validity than those of the ordinary 
man; hence, in the opinion of the world in general, man is not 
equally the measure ofall things. Such considerations, however, 
only furnish presumptions against the principle; accordingly, 
there follow (chaps. XXII-—X XIII) what are intended to be the 
conclusive arguments. The first of these is, as Grote points out, 
fallacious. It may be briefly stated thus: Protagoras maintains 
that whatever a man thinks is true to that man; but the vast 
majority of mankind think that Protagoras’ opinion is mo? true; 
hence it zs not true. The proper conclusion is that it is not true 
to them. But though this reasoning is fallacious in form, it seems 


AIM AND RESULTS OF PLATO'S THEAETETUS, 173 


to be substantially sound; the dictum of Protagoras as interpreted 
by Plato is self-contradictory; if each man’s opinion be equally 
valid with that of every other man, there is no absolute truth. 
For among the large variety of opinions possible upon a subject 
some one must (even by mere chance) more closely approximate 
to the existing reality than another; hence if one opinion be 
equally valid with the others there can be no reality cor- 
responding to any opinion. It is probable that Plato did not 
notice that Socrates’ argument is fallacious. In his time, 
whether through lack of a formulated logic, or through the 
difficulty of distinguishing words from things, fallacies were 
less easy of detection; and never is a sophistical argument more 
likely to escape notice than when it leads to a conclusion mani- 
festly, upon other grounds, true. In any case a more effective 
refutation follows: in regard to future events, the opinion of one 
man is found to accord more closely with the event than that of 
another; hence in this case, one man is more a measure of truth 
than another. Besides, the opinions of experts are found to be 
more likely to approximate to the facts in their own particular 
sphere, than those of other men; yet one man’s sense-perception 
is as true as another’s. Hence there is knowledge that is not 
sense-perception. 

But not only is this definition thus shown to be inadequate, it 
is also false. The principle of Heraclitus is true in regard to 
sensations; these have no permanence of any kind; they are not 
among τὰ ὄντα. Now, neither truth nor untruth can be predicated 
of what does not exist; hence there can be no knowledge (in 
Plato’s sense) of sensations. Theaetetus’ first definition of 
knowledge is completely overthrown. 

Further, an important corollary is deduced (chap. XXX), 
which offers no difficulties in the original, and may therefore be 
briefly stated. Sensations are not apprehended by the senses 
themselves but by a central organ, the intelligence (ἡ ψυχή); this 
organ has the power of comparing sensations and of arriving at 
notions which are not apprehended by the senses themselves. It 
is through this intelligence that we arrive at the notion of exist- 
ence, and as existence is always implicated in truth, we must hence- 
forth seek for knowledge in the operations of the intelligence. 


174 W. J. ALEXANDER. 


11. 


Sensation is the lowest of mental states; and it was fitting that 
Plato in his pursuit of knowledge should begin at the foot of the 
mental scale; but having succeeded in excluding sense-perception 
from the domain of knowledge, he now considers the next higher 
mental process, that of ofznzon' (δόξα, δοξάζειν). In this investigation 
(chaps. XXXI-XXXVIII), it is worthy of note that the argument 
finally employed to refute the definition of knowledge as right 
opinion, might have been used at the outset, and would, doubtless, 
have then been used, had Plato’s only object been to overthrow the 
definition. But, in truth, he wishes, as in the first stage of the 
discussion, to sift what is called opinion, in search of clues to the 
realm of knowledge. Before proceeding to this second stage, we 
should note something which underlies the whole of this portion 
of the dialogue,—the assumption, which Pilato (whether or not it 
commends itself to the modern mind) evidently regards as 
axiomatic, that false knowledge is not knowledge at all: one may 
have a true or a false opinion; but false knowledge is a contra- 
diction in terms; one either knows or does not know a thing. 

Socrates, accepting for the nonce Theaetetus’ second definition 
of knowledge as true opinion, points to a difficulty in regard to 
false opinion. Iftwothings, A and B, are both known, it is evident 
that they cannot be confused; hence false opinion is in this case 
impossible; so also, if one is known and the other not known; in 
short, false opinion is impossible within the domain of knowledge. 
Still false opinion does undoubtedly exist; and a second attempt 
is made to find how and where this is possible. At this point is 
introduced the comparison of the soul to a wax tablet which 
receives impressions through perceptions. After an elaborate 
enumeration, by the help of this symbol, of all possible cases of 
judgment in regard to two things present in the mind, it is found 
that false (as well as true) opinion is possible, not as between two 
things known, or as between two things perceived, but as between 
a thing known anda thing perceived ; in other words, false opinion 
is possible in referring perceptions or other products of sensation 


1“ Qpinion,’’ in Plato’s mind, seems to correspond to what we call 
empirical knowledge,—knowledge for which we cannot assign the grounds, 
which is unreasoned and accidental, and whose truth, in consequence, we 
cannot ascertain. 


AIM AND RESULTS OF PLATO'S THEAETETUS. 175 


to general notions (which are attained, as we saw above, through 
the intelligence). As Socrates says, ‘‘ False opinion arises not in 
the comparison of perceptions with one another, or of thoughts 
with one another, but in the bringing of a perception and thought 
together.’” This does not contradict the conclusion formerly 
arrived at, that false opinion cannot exist ; for we were then con- 
sidering the sphere of knowledge; but perception, which is 
outside the sphere of knowledge (chap. XXX), is involved in all 
cases investigated by means of the figure of the wax tablets. 
Suddenly, however, at this point (§196), an example is brought 
forward to show that, even in the case of the known, false opinion 
may actually exist, although this has been shown a 271071 to be 
impossible. Here we areina quandary. It does not seem that 
Plato, in this paradox, is merely amusing himself with dialectic 
subtleties, but that he was profoundly puzzled by this possibility 
of error in the realm of the known. His seriousness is attested by 
the minuteness and care of the psychological analysis in this part 
of the discussion. In the search for some explanation of this 
dilemma, Socrates (i. e., I believe, Plato) falls upon the use of the 
verb ‘know’ (ἐπίστασθαι), which has not yet been defined. Now, 
Plato was perfectly cognizant of the fact that ‘to know’ cannot be 
defined without defining ‘knowledge,’ which is the point at issue; 
what he seeks is to define the relation of ‘knowing’ to ‘knowl- 
edge.’ He reduces the two unknown terms to one, by defining 
‘knowing’ in terms of ‘knowledge’: to know is to possess 
knowledge (ἐπιστήμης κτῆσις). He further shows by the com- 
parison with doves ina cage that ‘to possess’ (κεκτῆσθαι) is different 
from ‘to have’ (éyew). Knowledge which is ‘possessed’ is latent 
or potential; in order that we may have knowledge, i. e. in the 
fullest sense know, the potential must be made actual. In this 
process mistakes seem possible; and this, in turn, may serve to 
explain how false opinion is possible in the sphere of knowledge, 
i. 6. as regards general notions. Thus a further step is made 
towards the solution, yet Plato is not satisfied; how can a man 
not know what he knows? The further solution of this difficulty 
is not found in the dialogue, but we shall have occasion to recur 
to it later. 


1 εὕρηκας δὴ ψευδῆ δόξαν, ὅτι οὔτε ἐν ταῖς αἰσθήσεσίν ἐστι πρὸς ἀλλῆλας οὔτ᾽ 
ἐν ταῖς διανοίαις, ἀλλ᾽ ἐν τῇ συνάψει αἰσθήσεως πρὸς διάνοιαν (§195 C-D). 


176 W. J. ALEXANDER. 


Plato, having thus investigated the process of ‘opinion’, as at 
an earlier stage he investigated ‘ perception’, and having cleared 
it up in some degree and attained some results by the way, 
quickly dismisses Theaetetus’ second definition (as he might 
have done at the outset) by showing in a special case that true 
opinion may exist without knowledge, and, therefore, cannot be 
knowledge (§ 201). 

Ti: 


We now reach the third stage of the discussion and Theae- 
tetus’ third definition: Knowledge is true opinion combined with 
definition (λόγος). This as it might seem, somewhat peculiar 
definition of knowledge evidently springs from the desire of 
excluding that element of mere empiricism, of chance, which we 
noted as pertaining to Plato’s conception of opinion. The clause 
added to the former definition is intended to limit its application 
to such opinion as is based upon reason, or is clearly appre- 
hended and understood; to exclude mere empirical guess-work, 
and include what we might call scientific or reasoned knowledge. 
Again, as in the previous stages, the dialogue turns forthwith to 
what seems to be a side issue, but, again, this apparent digression 
results in a reductio ad absurdum of the definition. 

The point upon which the argument which results in this 
veductio ad absurdum hinges, is the fact, admitted in our day 
as well as accepted in this dialogue, that no definition or descrip- 
tion can be given of what is elementary. We define one thing 
in terms of another; the latter, perhaps in terms of a third; but 
sooner or later we must come to the ultimate constituents of 
thought. A triangle may be defined in terms of lines; a line, 
in terms of points; but we can go no further. So with other 
elementary notions; to a man born blind we cannot define or 
describe ‘redness’. 

With this explanation let us return to our text. The definition 
is taken for granted ; it implies, since elements cannot be defined, 
that they cannot be known. Only complexes then can be known. 
Now, a complex must either be the sum of its elements and equal 
to them all taken together, or else a whole which springs from 
and is different from its elements. But, in the first case, the 


1 τὴν μὲν μετὰ λόγου ἀληθῆ δόξαν ἐπιστήμην εἶναι, THY δὲ ἄλογον ἐκτὸς ἐπιστήμης 
(§201 C-D). 


AIM AND RESULTS OF PLATO'S THEAETETUS. 177 


knowing of the complex would imply the knowing of the ele- 
ments, which, as we have seen, cannot be known; in the second 
case, the complex is a new unit; is therefore elementary, and 
cannot be known.’ Thus the acceptance of Theaetetus’ third 
definition results in demonstrating the impossibility of knowledge. 

As objection might be taken, however, to the meaning as- 
signed to definition (λόγος), or to the assumption that elements 
are unknowable, this third definition is now attacked in a more 
systematic way (Chaps. XLII-XLIII). ‘Definition’ may have 
any one of these meanings: (1st) expression in language; but 
this cannot be the meaning here, for a// right opinion may be 
expressed in language, and we have already shown that a// right 
Opinion is not knowledge. (2nd) ‘Definition’ may mean enu- 
meration of the ultimate elements ; this is the sense in which we 
employed the word in the reductio ad absurdum above; but 
we now proceed ina way less open to cavil. A thing is known 
(according to Theaetetus’ third definition) when we have a right 
opinion of it with an enumeration of elements added; but 
elements have no elements to be enumerated, therefore cannot 
be known.’ Our third definition would thus absurdly read: 
Knowledge is right opinion accompanied by an enumeration of 
things not known. (3rd.) ‘ Definition’ may mean the statement 
of the characteristic difference.* But this will not help us; for 
in order to have a right opinion about anything, we must be able 
to distinguish one thing or notion from another ; so the definition 
which bids us add the characteristic difference to right opinion, 
bids us add what we have already, in order that we may learn 


1 Whac Plato means may be made clearer by a modern illustration. 
The elements, in the first alternative, are like the various colours in the 
spectrum ; if we are acquainted with the spectrum, we are also acquainted 
with all the primary colours, red, yellow, etc., since the whole spectrum is 
merely the sum of these. The elements in the other alternative resemble 
these same primary colours in relation to white light; they combine to 
form a new unit which arises out of them, but is not equal to the sum of 
them; white light, although it is produced by a complex of colours, is an 
elementary sensation, and cannot be described in terms of red, yellow, 
etc., as can the spectrum. 

2 This is of course in harmony with the results of the first stage of the 
dialogue ; for the elements enumerated in a definition are sense-percep- 
tions, and these cannot be known. 

3rd ἔχειν τι σημεῖον εἰπεῖν, ᾧ τῶν ἁπάντων διαφέρει TO ἐρωτηθέν. Again τὴν 
διαφορὰν ἑκάστου, 1 τῶν ἄλλων διαφέρει. 

12 


178 W. J. ALEXANDER. 


what we know already. In fine, the addition by means of which 
Theaetetus has attempted to improve his second definition turns 
out upon analysis to be no addition at all; the third definition is, 
therefore, nothing more than the second, which has already been 
exploded. 


Theaetetus has no further definitions to suggest, and Socrates 
closes the dialogue without indicating that any results, other than 
the purely negative one of showing the inadequacy of the defini- 
tions proposed, have been attained.’ That, however, need not 
have been the opinion of the writer of the dialogue; in truth, 
it is sufficiently manifest that various positive results have been 
attained, such as an insight into the nature of sense-perception, 
the establishment of a central mental organ, the intelligence, etc. 
We need not enumerate these; but rather let us ask the question, 
are these results of a miscellaneous character, or do they lead in 
a given direction? is there a philosophic unity in the dialogue ? 
In the first stage of the discussion sense-perception and the whole 
world of sensations of the concrete is excluded from the domain 
of knowledge; knowledge must be sought in the operations of the 
intelligence,—in the results that it seems to attain by comparing 
sense-perceptions with one another. In short, we establish the 
sphere of knowledge to be general notions or concepts. In 
the second stage, however, we discover that all even of the suc- 
cessful operations of the intelligence are not productive of knowl- 
edge; all true opinion is not knowledge. More important still, 
for the general purposes of the dialogue, are the results attained 
with regard to knowledge itself; that it exists in two forms, 
latent and actual; and that the possibility of error in the sphere 
of knowledge must, in some at present inexplicable manner, lie 
in the process of making the latent actual. In the third stage 
we learn that if a complex is known, the elements also must be 
known; but the elements, or sense-perceptions, cannot be known. 
Hence our knowledge cannot arise from sense-experience. 

Such results as these might well lead to the scepticism professed 
by some of Plato’s opponents, or by such a philosopher as Hume. 
But throughout the Theaetetus, we feel that the author tacitly 
assumes the possibility of knowledge, nor was the disposition of 
Plato’s mind such as to rest in scepticism. Accept the pos- 
sibility of knowledge, and consider where the dialogue leaves us. 
The sphere of knowledge must be in concepts; but if these are 


AIM AND RESULTS OF PLATO S THEAETETUS, 179 


known, they cannot arise from sensations or experience. They 
must therefore be intuitive or transcendental. But if thus given, 
they must be perfect, free from error; they must, accordingly, be 
knowledge in the /atent form. Errors which actually are found 
in concepts must, then, arise in the process of transmuting latent, 
into actual knowledge. We see everything prepared for the hy- 
potheses by which Plato cut the Gordian knot of the possibility 
of knowledge. As concepts cannot arise from experience, and 
since we have no experience of real existence, general notions 
are the result of the contemplation of real existences in a previous 
phase of the life of the soul; but through the limitations of body 
and matter, this knowledge of real existence is rendered latent. 
The process of making this knowledge actual is that of axam- 
mesis Or reminiscence; imperfect revival is the source of errors 
in the sphere of knowledge. 

This dialogue is, therefore, a demonstration, as far as demon- 
stration is possible, of Plato’s positive theory of knowledge. 
The whole subject is investigated as far as reasoning can go. 
The final step is not made—the explanations afforded by the 
doctrine of zdeas and anamnesis—because this final step is a pure 
hypothesis. Like other hypotheses—like the modern scientific 
hypotheses of the existence of atoms or of a luminiferous ether— 
it is not susceptible of proof; but like them it justifies itself by 
affording a solution of the problem. It seems scarcely credible, 
when one notes how the dialogue leads up to this solution, 
that the writer did not have the hypothesis more or less definitely 
conceived. Especially does the somewhat unmotived and, for 
the argument, purposeless introduction of the distinction between 
“possessing knowledge” and “having knowledge”, seem to 
indicate that the writer must have had the theory of axamnesis 
already in mind. 

Why, it may be asked, should Plato have left unexpressed in 
the Zheaetetus, the main outcome of the discussion. To answer 
this, one must look at certain peculiarities of his work and devel- 
opment. Plato was both a philosopher and a literary artist ; it was 
under the artistic impulse and through the desire to represent and 
defend the character and teachings of his master that the earliest 
dialogues were written. But, as years went on, the literary bias 
was gradually subordinated to the philosophic. In his latest 
works literary charm is wanting not merely in the dramatic set- 


180 W. J. ALEXANDER. 


ting but in the very style. This is markedly true of the Laws; 
and here too Socrates is absent, no doubt because the positive 
and dogmatic character of the teachings was inconsistent with his 
character and method. Between these two poles of Plato’s work 
we trace an easy transition. The dialogue, originally employed 
for artistic purposes would naturally be later employed by 
the active philosophic mind of Plato, as an instrument for clari- 
fying his own ideas. The earliest dialogues would doubtless 
represent actual discussions which had been maintained by 
the living Socrates. But what more natural than that his pupil, 
in pursuit of truth, should imaginatively represent the keen 
intellect of his master, applying his dialectic to topics which the 
latter had never actually treated. The dialectic method would 
be, in Plato’s earlier years at least, the natural method for the 
attainment of philosophic results; but as his views grew more 
positive, the dialogue with Socrates as its central figure would 
become inadequate for the expression of the writer’s mind. 
There would be a point in Plato’s development where he would be 
hampered by his form; and this point seems to be represented in 
the Zheaetetus, where we find, on the one hand, the dramatic 
framework, literary skill and charm in some of the digressions, 
and the original Socrates of the earlier dialogues; on the other 
hand, passages of strenuous and dry dialectic, criticism of con- 
temporary theories, and numerous positive results. It is notable 
that in the Sophzst, so closely linked by its framework with the 
Theaetetus, the chief place in the discussion is transferred from 
Socrates to the Eleatic stranger, who may more appropriately 
give utterance to the positive teachings of this dialogue. ‘In the 
Timaeus, Sophist, and Politicus,” as Jowett notes, ‘Socrates’ 
function as chief speaker is handed over to the Pythagorean 
philosopher Timaeus and the Eleatic stranger, at whose feet he 
sits and is silent.” And so in the Republic, to quote Jowett 
again, “the Socratic method is nominally retained .. . but any one 
can see that this is a mere form, the affectation of which grows 
wearisome as the work advances.’ The artistic plan of the_ 
Theaetetus hampers Plato in the expression of his views, and this 
taken with the fact alluded to above, that the keystone of Plato’s 
theory of knowledge was pure hypothesis, incapable of demon- 
stration, would serve to account for the apparent inconclusiveness 
of the Zheaetetus. 
University COLLEGE, TORONTO. W. Hi ALEXANDER. 


ON THE USES OF THE PREPOSITIONS IN HOMER. 


The Homeric poems furnish the best field for the study of 
the Greek prepositions, because they are there employed with 
greater freedom and variety than elsewhere and the origin and 
development of their uses may more easily be traced. In the 
Iliad and Odyssey prepositions not only enter into composition 
with verbs or govern cases—to which uses they are for the most 
part confined in prose—but they are also used independently of 
verbs or cases in tmesis or as adverbs. Further freedom in their 
use is seen in the fact that they are not unfrequently doubled and 
postponed. 

Hitherto complete statistics on these various phenomena have 
been wanting. This article is an attempt to supply this want and 
embraces a tabulation of the frequency of the various preposi- 
tions, the numerical relation of the cases, doubling of prepositions, 
postposition, tmesis, and the adverbial use. 

Frequency. In point of frequency Homer has an average 
of one preposition in every 3.4 lines, that for the Iliad (3.3) 
being slightly higher than that for the Odyssey (3.5). Tycho 
Mommsen (in his Beitrage zu der Lehre von den griechischen 
Praepositionen, Berlin, 1895) has shown that there are well 
marked differences in the aggregate frequency of prepositions 
according to period, department, author, etc. Poetry, as we 
might expect, has fewer prepositions than prose. Epic and lyric 
poetry in general excel tragic and comic, though variations occur 
both in different poets and in the works of the same poet. In 
prose the historians excel the philosophers and the orators. 

Numerical relation of the cases. Mommsen has also shown 
that the numerical relation of the cases with which prepo- 
sitions are used is an important element in style and may serve 
to differentiate the periods and departments of Greek litera- 
ture. As stated by him (Beitrage, p. 19) “the preponderance 
of the dative with prepositions belongs to the older and poetic 


1Mo nmsen’s average for the Iliad is 3.14, for the Odyssey 3.95. 


182 A.S. HAGGETT. 


language, that of the accusative to the younger language and 
prose, that of the genitive to the rhetorical and philosophical 
elements in poetry and prose.” The marked preponderance of 
the dative in epic poetry is seen from the fact that 42.07% of the 
prepositions in Homer are used with this case. We naturally 
expect this from the great number of concrete locative situations 
afforded by the subject matter of epic poetry. Hence ἐν and ἐπί 
are the favorite prepositions. There is an element of pictur- 
esqueness in this phenomenon. The dative, more strictly defining 
the locality or limiting it to a narrower sphere, gives color and 
emphasis (cf. Forman, The Difference between the Gen. and 
Dat. used with ἐπί to denote Superposition, Balto., 1894, p. 43). 

The numerical relation of the cases in Homer is as follows: 
22.23% are used with the genitive, 42.07% with the dative, 35.70% 
with the accusative. The Iliad and Odyssey show about the 
same preponderance of the dative, while in the Odyssey the 
genitive has lost and the accusative gained, each in about the 
same degree. 

Doubling of prepositions. The doubling of prepositions gives 
a picturesque fulness to the expression. It makes the preposition 
doubly deictic. Homer has 80 examples, the most frequent double 
prepositions being διαπρό (21), παρέκ (19), ὑπέκ (18), διέκ (12). The 
Iliad shows much greater freedom in doubling prepositions than 
the Odyssey, having 50 of the above 80 examples. In this 
respect the Odyssey is in accord with its general tendency to 
use the more distinctively poetic licenses less freely than the 
older Iliad. 

Postposition. The normal position of the preposition is im- 
mediately before its case. In poetry, however, it is found not 
unfrequently after the word which it governs, i. e., it is post- 
poned. In Homer where the transition from local adverbs to 
prepositions proper was not yet complete and the position of the 
preposition had not yet become rigidly fixed, postposition is to 
be regarded as a freedom of the language. In succeeding poets 
it became more and more a conscious means of poetic effect. 
The éthos of postposition may be seen from the fact that it is 
found largely in the higher spheres of poetry, while in prose 
it is rare and confined mostly to the earlier period (cf. Ktihner, 
§452, 2). 

Homer postpones 7.85% of his prepositions (Iliad 8.13%, Od. 


THE USES OF THE PREPOSITIONS IN HOMER. 183 


7.50%) or nearly one in every 13. Of the 645 examples of post- 
position in the Homeric poems, 255, or about 3.1% of the whole 
number of prepositions, are cases of pure anastrophe, 390, or 4.7% 
of the whole number of the prepositions, are cases of interpo- 
sition between the noun and adjective or dependent genitive. 
The latter cases are here included in postposition, though the 
feeling is somewhat different from that which prevails when 
the preposition follows the simple substantive or both the 
substantive and its qualifying adjective. Instances of inter- 
position without anastrophe, i. e., interposition between the 
adjective or dependent genitive and the substantive may 
be mentioned here, though they are not to be included under 
the head of postposition. Homer shows a marked fondness for 
this kind of interposition, using it almost twice as freely as inter- 
position between the substantive and adjective and almost as 
often as postposition in general. He has 600 examples of this 
phenomenon, so that 7.3% of all his prepositions are thus used. 

As might be expected, the great majority of the cases of post- 
position occur with the dative, which in this use predominates 
even more strongly than in the general ratio of the cases given 
above. The ratio for postposition is as follows: gen. 22.2%, 
dat. 45.4%, acc. 32.3%. 

The scansion of all the lines in which postposition occurs reveals 
the fact that there are preferences for it at particular points in the 
verse. Prepositions are most frequently postponed in the first 
(191 examples) and the fourth (165 examples) foot. 

Adverbial use of prepositions. The fact that Homer has over 
one-fi%h as many instances of prepositions used adverbially as 
with cases furnishes abundant evidence that prepositions were 
originally adverbs. Here the Iliad is slightly less free than the 
Odyssey, the average for the former being one in 17.3 lines, for 
the latter one in 15.7 lines. 

The above figures are based on the aggregate independent 
use of the prepositions (i. e., without a case), and hence includes 
both tmesis and the adverbial use proper. It is impossible to 
determine with exactness what uses in Homer fall under the head 
of each of these subdivisions. Strictly speaking, whenever a 
preposition is so used that it cannot be said to govern a case, it is 
adverbial, and the term tmesis has no place in the Homeric 
poems. Still, as it seemed desirable to make some distinction 


184 AS) | HACCETH 


between tmesis and the adverbial use pure and simple, the plan 
that has here been followed has been to classify as adverbial only 
those instances in which the preposition does not in Homer enter 
into composition with the verb and so cannot be said to be 
separated from it by tmesis. It appears that the strictly 
adverbial use is a little less than one-fourth as frequent as tmesis. 
The adverbial use is considerably more common in the Iliad 
than in the Odyssey (Il. once in 83 lines, Od. once in 98.4 
lines), while tmesis is slightly less common in the former than 
in the latter (Il. once in 21.9 lines, Od. once in 18.8 lines). 

The éthos of tmesis—as well as that of the adverbial use—is 
seen from the fact that it belongs predominantly to the higher 
spheres of poetry. It lays stress on the preposition by giving it 
an independent place in the sentence. This stress is sometimes 
further emphasized by anastrophe. The effect in epic poetry is 
different from that in lyric and tragic. In the former tmesis is 
used less consciously and more for picturesqueness, while in lyric 
and tragic it is used more for emphasis (cf. Pierson, Rhein. Mus., 
21, ''p./90 fi). 

The prepositions most freely used as adverbs are περί, audi, 
and ἐν; those most frequently used in tmesis κατά, ἐκ, ἐπί. 

The results of this investigation show that prepositions, both in 
their frequency and their case relation are an important element 
of style in the Homeric poems, and that the marked prepon- 
derance of the dative case, the doubling of the prepositions, 
and their free adverbial use contribute in no small degree to 
picturesqueness. Of the two poems the Odyssey has in general 
employed the more distinctively poetic features of prepositional 
usage less freely, thereby showing an advance toward the later 
and more formal principles which were to govern the uses of the 
prepositions. 

PREPOSITIONS WITH ONE CASE. 




















Prep. [ἀντί ἀπό εἰς | ἐκ | ἐν | xpd σύν | διέκ | ὑπέις ἀποπρό) διαπρό 
Th. oO in e938 | 574 ΠΟΘ] ΟϑΘΙ, 259 1112). τ} Ι 3 
dys. 31 991449|284|904| 6] 75] 11 2 οὐ ~o 
Total . | 10 |372|823|690 |1893]} 34 |188| 12 | 15 I 3 








THE USES OF THE PREPOSITIONS IN HOMER. 185 


PREPOSITIONS WITH TWO CASES. 





διά κατά 






























































































































































ὑπέρ παρέκ 
Prep. 
gen. | acc. |total| gen. | acc. |total | gen. | acc. |total] gen.} acc. |total 
Il. 76) | 42: | EIB! } 159. 3225 325 N30) 25 "52 τ iS 6 
Bree ST 1.35 b 56} TS L253 278 Vi BQN i) By ea eM a Ne 
Total | 97 | 77 |174] 68 |586/654 | 49 | 31 | 80} 2) δ 10 
PREPOSITIONS WITH THREE CASES. 
ἀμφί ἀνά ἐπί μετά 
Prep 
ὃ 5. «8 5) “|35) Ὁ) 5) 4) 2 ἸῺ  “) Ἐ 8 
Il. I [59 98 158,0 | 6 | 84 90) 60/358/224) 642) 3/123/107\233 
Od..| 1 [2927] 67) οἷ] 3 | 59 62/104|186)189) 479] 2) 92) 57/151 
Total| 2 | 88 |135/225| 0 | 9 1432152164.5444131121] 5/215/164|384 
PREPOSITIONS WITH THREE CASES, CONTINUED. 
παρά περί πρός ὑπό 
Prep. 
eh ees Ξ] diese hice heh die: (ad, Ξε Ne 
m/s} 99) ὥ 5) 45) 9) 9 |3] miosis] 8 
ΤΙ: 40 |134| 90 264 51 5848157 17} 7 |144/168) 99 132) 35 266 
Od... 27) 85) 43 155 28 2724) 79 1014135159 27 55 27 109 
Total | 67 |219|133/419) 79 | 85 | 72 236 27 | 21 [270|227126}187] 62 [375 














1In three places (Od. 2, 416; 9, 177; 15, 284) ἀνά is followed by the 
genitive of going on board ship. These, however, are best regarded as 
cases of tmesis. 


186 A. S. HAGGETT. 


Average frequency, one in 3.403 lines. 
Total number of occurrences with gen., 1823; 22.23 % 


« « « “ τ dat., 3449; 42.07 % 
fi ce ( ( sc ‘ acc., 2926; 35-79 % 


| Total number of prepositions with cases in Homer, 8198 


All Homer. 


( Total number of prepositions with cases in the Iliad, 4746 
Average frequency, one in 3.306 lines. 
Total number of occurrences with gen., 1160; 24.46 % 


ee « ( “ τε dat., 1979; 41.70 % 
« ( ( ( “ο acc., 1607 ; 33-84 % 


Iliad. 


( Total number of prepositions with cases in the Odyssey, 3452 
oS | Average frequency, one in 3.508 lines. 
® + Total number of occurrences with gen., 663; 19.21 4 
5 τ ΠΡ τς τ “ dat., 1470; 42.58 % 

eM ak ᾿ ἣν ᾿ 800) ΤΩΤΟ 38.21% 


TABLE SHOWING THE NUMBER OF EXAMPLES ΟΕ POSTPOSITION 
OF EACH PREPOSITION AND THE PER CENT. OF ITS TOTAL 
NUMBER OF OCCURRENCES. 





Prep. | Iliad | Od. |Total| 4 Prep. | Iliad} Od. |Total| 4% 
ἀντί 5 oO 5 | 50. διά ΙΟ 5 15 | 8.6 
ἀπό 28 ON Haar el es 3 κατά ΤΟ 2 1 24} 5:2 
εἰς 20/4), 2857 28᾽]..5.:8 ὑπέρ 6 4} 10} 2:5 
ἐκ 20 18} 29} 5.» ἀμφί 9 τί 16} Jak 
ἐν FEA ΓΟ 1285. 7.2 ἀνά ὃ ΟῚ απ ὍΣ 
πρό 4 fe) en ee ἐπί τοῦδ 24} 155. 4236 
σύν 2 6 ὃ 4.2 μετα II 8 19 4.9 
διέκ O fe) fe) O παρά 13 ὃ 21, 4.9 
ὑπέκ Ι oO 17 6.6 περί II Θ᾿ 200) 7835 
ἀποπρό fe) oO O fe) πρός 2 Ι 3 QI 
διαπρό 2 fe) 2 | 66.6 ὑπό 45 |) 18) 2) τοῖϑ 


Total number in all Homer, 645; 7.85 % 
% (had: 386; 8.13 % 


a i “ Odyssey, 259; 7.50% 


THE USES OF THE PREPOSITIONS IN HOMER. 187 


TABLE SHOWING THE NUMBER OF EXAMPLES OF TMESIS AND 
THE ADVERBIAL USE OF EACH PREPOSITION. 











Tmesis 

Prep. Il. | Od. | Total 
a O fe) fe) 
πὸ τοὺς “Δ Bk RES 
io ee Ἐ4 Part a6 
SMe se | LOZ | EOL. | 208 
|| 72} 154} 1.126 
2 ἘΝ ΔΕ ΜΡ 2 8 
ih ee 19 18 37 
rae 10 9 19 
xara «. .{| I0Q | IOI | 210 
ὑπέρ . + fe) fe) fe) 


SpE 2:08 ZO.) 370}, OF 
Gh ΝΡ Ny ΟΡ ge 
EWE so) |, LOA.) FOS.) 207 
μετά .. Τ2 S:, 20 
παρὰ « « 21 34 55 
REPU) ve: vs 34 34} 68 
πρός « « 19 τι 36 
SURO Tsay (i's 49 33 82 
fe) oO 





ο 
fe) 
I 
ο 
3 





Total | 715 | 644 |1359 |Il. 21.9 
Od. 18.8 











20.4 








Adverbial 


Iliad| Od, | Total) Freq. 





iS) 
mMOOoOdd0dONNOO00 


μι Me aS 
μι i μι 


aN 
w 


μι 
OnNO σαν NNN 





189 











& 
μι ὧι 
NPODOODOOWO0O00N0 
[Ὁ] 
“I 
οο 
fe) 
WwW 


[Ὁ] 
σὶ 


434.4 
13901.5 
1323.8 
4633-8 
1635.4 
347-5 
2316.9 
3089.3 
13901.5 
13901.5 
1544.6 
Oo 


μι 
“IOV 


Ο 
co 
(2) 


OOMONODOONUNNANPHPHAWODdOOWNODIOIOO 
μι [Ὁ] 
NO WN τι 


μι 
On COO WN 


3475-3 
13901.5 
1) 








123 | 282. .ΠΠ 85. 
Od. 98.4 
89.1 


A: S: HAGGE EE 


᾿ 
aan 


i) 
i 


᾽ 
is 


ae Wy 


Tue) ἡ 
ὍΝ Hit H 
Wh 


Aah 





AN ERRONEOUS PHONETIC SEQUENCE. 


The ‘law’ of Thurneysen and Havet, that av is the normal 
Latin representation of Aryan ow, further defined and dated by 
Lindsay,’ Horton-Smith’? and Buecheler,* has been much in 
evidence for the last four or five years. In a short review, 
originally written for ‘Brief Mention’ in the American Journal of 
Philology,* I pointed out that ovzs (and doves) had not been 
satisfactorily accounted for by the defenders of the law, and 
avowed for myself a negative attitude. Recently Solmsen,* and 
before him Kretschmer® and Hirt,” have modified the law by 
exempting from its operation the ov group when tonic by Latin 
accentual laws. 

I need not here call the roll of all the distinguished scholars 
that have already accepted this phonetic change as proved in 
some sort, but I trust that the expression of a negative opinion on 
my part may nevertheless meet with a fair hearing. 

It is inevitable that the proofs of phonetic change shall differ in 
completeness and certainty, nor will perplexing exceptions always 
down. Thus the first expounders of this change might derive 
fovet, movet, vovet from the nearly gratuitous construct-forms 
*fevet etc., while for ovzs (and doves) they could offer nothing 
better than the pleas of ‘dialect admixture’ and ‘borrowed from 
the Greek,’ pleas especially lacking in cogency in this case, par- 
ticularly when the phonetic change was specifically dated in the 
third century B. c.’~ 

The later delimitation of the law not only accounts for ovzs, but 
takes fovet etc. as they stand,—2d conjugation forms of the monet 
type. But the new restriction brings with it fresh exceptions that 
must in turn be submitted to the analysis that sublimates and 
refines away. 

For fovet etc. paradigms like the following are presented: 2d 
sg. foves, 2d plur. *favétis; out of this variation foveo and faveo 
were both engendered, while only caveo survived (not *coveo), 
and moveo (not *maveo). Such levelling within a paradigm is 
capable of illustration, as a comparison of German war: waren 


190 EDWIN W. FAY. 


with English was: were will remind us. We may even admire 
how, in the pick and choose of these construct Latin paradigms, 
first the pres. sg. and 3d plural have predominated over the rest 
of the plural and all the imperfect and future, and vice versa; and 
again, how from the interplay twain verbs have come, of different 
case construction, but not alien significance, viz., favet and fovet. 

The words cdévus and cdvea offer a further difficulty in the new 
statement of the law, though it is claimed that Spanish cueva, 
Portuguese cova vindicate a Latin covos, borrowed about the time 
of the Roman occupation of the Iberian peninsula, say 201 B. C.’ 
To explain these exceptions Solmsen does not plead the influence 
of cavérna and trisyllabic forms of cavére, which are not registered 
in Plautus, but rather pleads that, when *coves and cavétis were 
alternating in the verb-paradigm, the vocally similar adjective 
stem *cévo was caught up along with *céves. Possibly, yes; but, 
this is very far from-convincing. As to the illustration from the 
survival of archaic foedus ‘ugly’ along with the retention, 
in legal language, of the archaic spelling of foedus ‘treaty,’ there 
being for both words a period when both spellings must have 
been in vogue, that is an independent proposition a scholar may 
be doing well to maintain, if he likes. That a new caves was 
growing up beside old *coves sheds no light on the new creation 
of cavos from *covos. Regarding this verb, a Plautine scholar 
might wonder why the imv. cave did not dictate the vocalization, 
asthis form alone is used by Plautus over 60 times, while the 
forms with accented ὦ are at least four times as numerous as with 
unaccented a. 

To be able to explain away exceptions to a theory furnishes no 
really corroborative evidence for it. Really convincing evidence 
for a phonetic law can be furnished by nothing short of the strong 
positive testimony of etymologies quite beyond reasonable ques- 
tion. It is to be feared that scholars sometimes fall into the 
almost unavoidable psychological error of proving their etymol- 
ogies by their laws. The following are the etymologies on which 
Solmsen more especially bases the particular modification of the 
law we are now discussing. 

1) favissae ‘cellars’: fovea ‘pit.’ For him who has no ety- 
mological theory to defend, a candid examination of the passage* 
on which all our knowledge of this word depends will leave a 
doubt whether /avissae or flavissae is its original form, even 


AN ERRONEOUS PHONETIC SEQUENCE. IgI 


though Varro provides for the latter a specious derivation from 
flare ‘to coin.’ The gloss’ seems to be not flavissae but flavissae 
specus, where, for all we know, flavissae may be adjectival, like 
Tullianum, and derived from some forgotten builder, a Flavius. 
Or we may connect /flavissae as an adjective with Gr. φρέαρ 
‘well’,—Homeric *@p(F)ara, nom. plur. to the 2 (or 22) stem, 
with 7 in Latin by dissimilation, as in Armenian aldzur. This 
enables us to derive flavissae (ἃ from a) from *flava*n-vent-ta- 
‘rich in wells’ (cf. Skr. udan-vdni- ‘rich in water’),—a colum- 
barium” sort of spbecus, to wit. The same derivation will account 
for favissae which might, in the 7-flexion of the stem, have lost 
its first x by dissimilative process. 

But even rejecting the form //avissae altogether, we may inter- 
pret these caverns of many compartments as ‘honey-combed,’ 
and connect with favus. Inasmuch as favus has been derived 
from *fovos, we may ask why it may not be better explained 
from Gr. χαῦ-νος ‘ porous’ (: fau-ces ‘jaws’). 

2) favilla ‘glowing cinder’ ; Favonius ‘West Wind’: fovet 
‘warms.’ 

So far as mere definition goes the above’ words might have a 
common origin, and I confess to a teacher’s partiality for keeping 
together as many Latin words as possible, because it simplifies 
classification. Still I can see no sound reason for denying the 
cognation of favzlla [from *faves-s/a, cf. Gr. φαεννός from *paFeo- 
vé-s ‘shining’ (of fire)] with @dFos ‘light’ (once in the Odyssey 
connoting ‘torch’), while the wind /avonius was the ‘clearing’ 
wind par excellence, as the passages from Plautus‘* show. 
Favonius forms a striking counterpart of the German adjective 
heiter as applied to the wind. With this group also faustus 
‘bright, auspicious’ belongs. 

3) cavilla ‘jeer, taunt’ : κόβαλος ‘impudent knave, pert rogue.’ 

This comparison might be allowed to pass, if the av/ov change 
were already well authenticated. But at best it would be only 
one of those cognations not demonstrably inconsistent with the 
phonetic laws; Ὁ and 8 may both be the product of a labialized 
guttural #edza, but nothing short of the discovery of a tertium 
comparationts could demonstrate this; for v may just as well be a 
true W, or a labialized guttural aspirate, while 8 may be a true B. 
Nor do these words correspond so nearly in sense and structure 
as to demand their identification. Similarly, only the discovery 


192 EDWIN W. FAY. 


of a tertium comparationis can cogently demand the equation of 
Lat. combretum and Lith. szvendrai™ 

[I may note in passing that a recent synopsis’? has reported 
me as admitting that my comparison” of the structure of Lat. 
ferena-ae and Skr. bhadradh-yai was unphonetic, though I was 
contending expressly for the normal phonetic identity of prim. 
Italic -ezd- and Skr. -adh-, with the cautious admission that, 
inasmuch as Gr. φέρεσθαι, the tertium comparationis, diverges in 
its ἐσ from both the other terms, no one could prove for this 
specific formation that Lat. ez and Skr. a actually did represent 
a primitive nasal vowel, nor that dh and d varied, whether in the 
primitive speech, or in prim. Italic, in this particular nasal environ- 
ment. Yet either of these propositions is in complete accord with 
recognized phonetic changes. ] 

To return to cavilla : I see no good reason to reject the oldtime 
explanation by dissimilation from *calvilla (: calumnia ‘abuse,’ 
calvitur ‘deceives’). We may even give that up for the sake of 
argument, and still explain cavz//a as a cognate of Lettic kauns 
‘shame, disgrace, insult ;’ cf. Hesychian xad-pos* κακός, and καυαλός 
‘silly talker,’ a signification seen in Plautus, Az/. 638 aufer 
cavillam; non ego nunc nugas ago. This group of words we 
may connect with Gr. καίει ‘burns,’ as we speak of ‘durning 
shame, insult,’ a metaphor renewed in the slang of to-day, in 
‘scorches,’ ‘roasts,’ both in the sense of ‘jeers at.’ 

I may be permitted to note in passing that κόβαλοι, used by 
Aristophanes of certain kobold creatures invoked by thieves, 
may be cognate to Skr. kdbaud-s ‘disease-demon’ (in the Atharvan, 
the folklore Veda). Had the Sanskrit word a usage in the fable 
literature, we might even advance the theory that kdbavd-s is a 
folklore name from India that has wandered via Greece all the 
way to the odold of German fable.’** 

4) avillus (with a variant in the glosses’, abed/us) ‘agnus recens 
partus’ (Anglice, ‘lambkin’) : ovzs ‘sheep.’ 

When Solmsen, to dispute the derivation of avil/us from agnus 
‘lamb,’ declares for *agnellus or *agniculus as the only possible 
Latin diminutives of agnus, I wonder if I have read him aright. 
Unless in the group g#z the guttural lost its rounding completely 
before the close of the primitive Italic period, I see no way. to 
deny the cognation of agnus and avzl/us that would not make us 
question scamnum . scabellum, signum : sigillum, asinus : asellus, 


AN ERRONEOUS PHONETIC SEQUENCE. 193 


geminus : gemellus. The very definition of avz//us, to say noth- 
ing of its gender, seems to me to proclaim its cognation with 
agnus rather than with ovzs. 

5) aububulcus. 

The glosses’ define this word by ‘ pastor bovum’ (ve/ ‘bovium’). 
Loewe’s correction of this definition to pastor ovium yields a 
material all too uncertain for etymological purposes, at least as 
evidence for setting up a phonetic law. It takes a great deal for 
granted to assume that a compound *ovi-bubilcus, with secondary 
accent on ov-, would suffer the same change as pretonic ov +,—in 
the terms of Solmsen’s theory. We may safely leave aububulcus 
to the textual critics,® who have already corrected to dubulcus and 
aut bubulcus, as well as to aubulcus. 

6) favet ; fovet. 

The cognation assumed in this formula is, all things considered, 
the one most favored by the upholders of the law. It may as 
well be admitted at the outset that these words are, after a 
fashion, synonymous; but how are they synonymous, and when? 
The answer is, in their most general and pale significance, and 
rather late in the language. Their meanings converge. In 
differentiated etymological cognates the senses should diverge. 
For converging words of great phonetic similarity we might 
expect manuscript confusion. We might even expect syn- 
tactical confusion. For this pair such a case has been pointed 
out. But Buecheler,* after a thoroughly satisfying justifica- 
tion of the rather unusual phraseology coeptantem—/ove, subse- 
quently seems inclined,* if I read between the lines aright, to 
interpret fove as an archaism for fave. He further points out a 
case of foveo archaic for faveo in Charisius,” where the words 
faveo tiot foveo te stand at the end of a paragraph rubricated 
‘Dativi et accusativi casus.’ But I object that in the entire 
paragraph of 18 examples we have but three structural types: 18, 
adsideo praetori et praetorem (15 times); 1b, accedo ἐϊόϊ, td est 
eadem tibi sentio, et te (1); 2, timeo tibi, id est ne eveniat tibi, et 
timeo te (1); and 3, the phrase under discussion. If the same verb 
were intended to be repeated we should accordingly expect faveo 
(foveo) tibi et te, or by bare possibility, 7 {δὲ et f. ze. There is 
no objection, so far as I can see, to supposing that the gram- 
marian—in what is, after all, nothing but a practical teacher’s list 


of memorabilia and discernenda—has inserted, as a final member, 
13 


194 EDWIN W. FAY. 


a pair of verbs almost identical in sound, but taking different 
case constructions. He has nearly done this again in the middle 
of the next rubric but one: adnztor [td est adiuvo] hanc rem, 
nttor hac re. 

But though we may dismiss these cases as devoid of any inde- 
pendent significance, a more serious case for the identification of 
fovet with favet is offered by Buecheler’s interpretation® of the 
following inscription found on the base of a tiny golden image, 
supposed to be that of a weasel, viz.: FOVE L. CORNELIAI L. F., the 
date of which he assigns, because the praenomen of the woman is 
given, to a period before Hannibal, let us say somewhere about 
225 B. C.—a date in beautiful harmony with the surmise already 
mentioned.” * Buecheler’s interpretation is fave Corneliae, a 
request to a deity” to show regard unto Cornelia. A prayer on 
a votive offering without mention of the deity addressed may, for 
all I know, be a normal type of inscription, but it cannot be 
denied that, so long as the deity’s name is withheld, the way is 
open for a different interpretation. The interpretation I have 
advanced’ for this inscription is uz Corneliaz ‘I was Cornelia’s.’ 
This may be expounded under several aspects: 1) as a mark of 
ownership on an heirloom, perhaps a pendant to necklace”; 2) as 
the utterance of a dead pet* imaged in gold; 3) as a warning that 
the image was out of the hands of the rightful owner, a sort of 
“stolen from J—n Sm—h” dog-collar inscription.’) 

The explanation of FOVE (E= EI) as the accented form of 
fui, or as a true perfect beside the possibly aoristic /wz?, is 
linguistically beyond cavil. But unfortunately no other certain 
o-perfect has yet been found for the Italic languages, though the 
handbooks venture on their reconstruction, and would doubtless 
welcome the real thing. That FOVE is a unique form need not 


1)I cannot better state the objection to this interpretation than by 
quoting from a personal note in description of the little object written at 
my request by Prof. Dressel: “Ihre deutung der inschrift wiirde ich ohne 
weiteres acceptieren, wenn der schriftcharakter auf eine dltere zeit hin- 
wiese; ich glaube aber kaum, dass der gegenstand dlter ist als etwa 
150-100 v. Chr.”” I see nothing to hinder us from accepting this date for 
the object, while regarding the inscription as representing an older type. 
Besides the use of the praenomen, already mentioned, Dressel! notes 
that the dative (I say, gen.) ending -AI speaks for an early date. Further, 
the form of the L is semiarchaic, and we might note in comparison how our 
jewellers often use black letter or German text. 


AN ERRONEOUS PHONETIC SEQUENCE. 195 


rule out my explanation; is not POVER a unique form for Auer,” 
and possibly, I can but think, evena false archaistic orthography ? 
For still other explanations of FOVE I shall presently ask a 
moment’s patience. 

I have challenged above the synonymity of favet and /fovet, 
on the ground that it is late and confined to their vaguer, 
figurative uses. The etymologist must try to fix the earlier 
and more specific senses. If we note that fovef means ‘warms,’ 
and specifically ‘foments’; that fomentum, already metaphorical 
in Cicero’s time, means a ‘poultice’ (generally hot) for medicinal 
application; that focu/a (Plautus) means ‘warming-pan’; and 
that fomes means ‘kindling-wood,’ we are not doing violence 
to unite all these significations, and define the root by ‘applies 
to the fire, applies fire to.’ Of the cognations hitherto advanced 
for fovet, that with Skr. dhavayati—actually rendered fovet by 
the Petersburg Lexicon—is, pace dixerim certorum doctisst- 
morum, hardly to be considered; for dhkavayatt means fovet 
only in its palest general sense. The cognation with Gr. 
θοός ‘quick,’ in the sense of ‘gives rapidity,’ has even less to 
recommend it. The connection with Skr. dahayatz ‘burns, makes 
burn’ is more nearly satisfactory. But decidedly the most satis- 
factory, as it seems to me, is the one I now propose. I note Gr. 
χύ-τρα ‘pot, potful of sacrificial pulse,’ χύτροι ‘hot baths’ (at Ther- 
mopylae), yon ‘drink-offering, libation,’ yéavos ‘hollow pit for 
casting molten metal’ (cf. Skr. Aavani, defined by native lexica, 
but not yet verified in the literature, by ‘sacrificial fire-pit’); and 
further I note Skr. juhdtz ‘pours into the sacrificial fire, offers,’ 
havi-s ‘ offering,’—usually of boiled porridge. The common root 
to all these words means ‘ pours into the fire, offers.’ Now com- 
paring for their signification focula with χύτρα; fomentum on the 
one hand with χύτροι, and on the other with χύτρα and havi-s; and 
noting for fomes ‘kindling’ that the fat offerings (in the Vedic 
ritual, ghee) did in fact serve as fuel to nourish the flames 
withal ;—it seems to me that we cannot separate the group of 
Latin words above from the Sanskrit and Greek words grouped 
after it. There is no phonetic let or hindrance, as yea ‘hole’: 
Lat. fovea ‘ pit’ shows. 

Besides the merit of bringing fovea and /fovet together, this 
etymology would enable us also to connect FOVE (i. e. FOVES ?) 
on the weasel inscription with Skr. favz-s, supposing the little 


2 


Ze 
Ve cx «ὦ 





196 EDWIN W. FAY. 


object to be either a votive offering, or, a trifle pompously, the 
“ offering of friendship ”’. 

[I may add in passing, supposing FOVE to be the name of the 
little quadruped represented, further etymologies. The weasel 
is often named for its beauty,” and gave its name toa cap of 
skin, and next (?) to one of metal (cf. Lat. galea and Gk. γαλέη 
‘weasel’),—though independent origin of these terms from the 
signification of ‘shining, bright’, is not impossible. Thus FOVE 
might be made out a cognate of Skr. chavi ‘skin, beauty’, from 
a primitive base, S)KHawvE. Or the weasel, particularly the 
ferret and ermine varieties, may have been named from its white, 
bright color,—and even the common weasel is white-bellied, with 
back of reddish brown. So we might compare with FOVE Skr. 
dhavalé-s ‘white’. Inasmuch as Gr. αἴλουρος means both weasel 
and cat, it would then be possible to explain together FOVE 
(sc. animal?) and feles,—from prim. Italic *feveles, with é from éve 
in quick speech: I note for the structure the Sankrit pair chagas, 
chigalds ‘goat’, and for the vocalism Gr. vep-é-An. The spelling 
faeles in manuscripts of Varro and Cicero is absolutely incapable 
of proving the priority of ae to δ in this word.”” Other names of 
the weasel possibly present this same signification: thus beside 
yahén we may note γαλήνη ‘calm’ (with the epithet ‘white’ in the 
Odyssey). Does γάλα ‘milk’ also belong with these words? In 
German slang I have heard milk called wezsshezt. Might not 
Cymric dele ‘weasel’ be referred to the Celtic group belonging 
to the root 4é ‘shines’?* Still other names of the weasel seem to 
mean ‘nimble, quick’,’? and hence FOVE might be connected with 
Gr. θοός ‘quick’, 6s (note the plural θώαντες) ‘jackal’. Those 
Avestan scholars who render gaéwa by ‘cat’ might find its 
etymon in FOVE, and connect both with Skr. gandha-s ‘ perfume’, 
with the bad sense of ‘stink’ in modern Persian derivatives. 

Inasmuch, however, as the proof has not been rendered that 
FOVE does mean weasel, I recommend none of these etymologies. ] 

If the current etymologies for fovet fail to bring conviction on 
the semantic side, they but fail the more for favet, as a secondary 
form of fovet. There is a separate etymology for favet, con- 
necting with O. Bulg. govéti ‘religiose vereri’, Lith. gausus 
‘abundant’, Lettic gausa ‘abundance, prosperity’. But these 
Balto-Slavic words seem to me rather to be cognate with Skr. juhoti 
‘offers sacrifice’, especially gausus, which corresponds in sense 
to the Greek advb. χύ-δην (Lat. fuse) ‘copiously’. To reconcile 


AN ERRONEOUS PHONETIC SEQUENCE. 197 


Avestan zaoéra ‘offering’ with this group we must assume 
variation between palatal and unlabialized guttural.”* 

For fave/ I have two explanations to offer, either of which 
seems to me to account for the signification and case con- 
struction of the word. If we render it by ‘regards, looks upon’, 
German ‘sieht an, achtet (auf)’, we may make it a cognate of 
Homeric θηέομαι ‘I gaze at with interest, marvel at, admire’; 
θαῦμα ‘wondrous sight’. But if we make a study of the earlier 
usage of the word we shall reach a different definition. 

Naevius, 56:*%* dubii fauentem per fretum introcurrimus, 
“doubtful we dart through the gaping strait’”—the Symple- 
gades, I conjecture. 

Ennius, 7vag. 250:*° fauent faucibus russis | cantu plausuque 
premunt alas, “they (the cocks) gape with jaws wide open 
(vussis from revorsus, or from russus ‘red’ ?) etc.” 

Ennius, Ann. 376:*° matronae moeros complent spectare 
fauentes, “and the dames fill the walls, gaping to behold.’’’) 

Accius, 510:%* cives ominibus faustis augustam adhibeant | 
fauentiam, ore obscena dicta segregent, “let the folk accord the 
omens blest a solemn wide-mouthed attention, and from their 
lips ill-omened speech remove.” 

Ennius, Annales, 414:** hic insidiantes vigilant, partim requi- 
escunt | contecti gladiis sub scutis ore fauentes, “here they set an 
ambush; some watch, some begin to nap, covering themselves, 
swords (handy), beneath their shields, with mouths ayawn.” 

With these passages before us, we can hardly avoid the con- 
clusion that the specific sense of favet in the early period was 
‘gapes at, admires’. By this etymology favissae and favus may 
both be explained as cognates of favet. The phrase favete linguis 
lends itselfto explanation as a substitute for ove faventes, connoting 
the wide-mouthed hush of astonishment, though at Naevius 111-2 
(cf. Enn. 77. 250 V. cited above), regum filiis | linguis faueant atque 
adnutent seems to mean ‘at kings’ sons marvel with tongue and 
nod’; while the pale sense ‘marvel at’ is all I can find in Ennius, 
Annales 289: Romanis Iuno coepit placata fauere. 

I note that the word is solemn, and not used by Plautus, save in 
the Amphitruo prologue, in the form favztorves ‘ claqueurs’. 


1) Here compare Shakespeare’s King John, ii, 1, 375: 
And stand securely on their battlements, 
As in a theatre, whence they gape and point 
At your industrious scenes and acts of death, 


198 EDWIN W. FAY. 


We have now passed in review the evidence on which Solm- 
sen chiefly relies to establish the change of ov to av in Latin. 
We have seen that aubudulcus and f(/)avissae are not of a 
philological certainty to invite confidence in their etymological 
explanation, though favissae may be explained as a derivative 
of favus ‘honeycomb’ (: Gr. χαῦνος ‘ porous’), or f(Z)avissae as 
cognate—with dissimilation—to Gr. *ppy(F)ara ‘wells’. There is 
no convincing reason for separating /avzl/a ‘ glowing cinder’ and 
Favonius ‘clearing wind’ from Gr. ¢aFos ‘light, glow—torch’. 
The old explanation of cavzl/a from *calvilla (calumnia), or its 
derivation from the root of Gk. καίει ‘burns’ (cf. Lettic kauns 
‘shame, insult’; Hesychian xai-pos* κακός, καυαλός" pwpoddyos) are 
more plausible than the comparison with Gr. κόβαλος ‘demon’. 
The diminutive avz//us (with variant adel/us) ‘lambkin’ must 
not be separated from agnus ‘lamb’. For fovet the definition 
‘applies to the fire, applies fire to’ suits the more specific usage 
of the word and its derivatives, whence follows cognation with 
Gk. χέει ‘pours’, Skr. 7uhcti ‘pours into the fire, offers’. Thus 
fovea ‘(sacrificial) pit’ [and FOVE ‘sacrificial offering’?] meet a 
common explanation with fovet. Further, FOVE may be a unique 
form of /2z, or, if it means ‘weasel’, be explained in sundry other 
ways. For favef an apt definition is ‘regards, looks upon’, 
German ‘sieht an, achtet (auf)’, whence might follow its cogna- 
tion with Gr. θαέομαι ‘I gaze at with wonder’; θαῦμα ‘wonder’. 
But the early and more specific usage of the word demands 
the definition ‘gapes (at), admires’;—whence we must infer, for 
the structure of favet, derivation from the base of Gr. χαῦνος 
‘porous’, ydos ‘yawning, void’, while the sense corresponds to 
χάσκει ‘yawns, gapes’, metaphorically extended to ‘gapes at, 
marvels at, admires’. 

That arguments still remain in favor of the older statement of 
the law, Ido not gainsay. One of these is furnished by cavus 
‘hollow’, beside which is a rustic cohum, which modern scholars, 
correcting Varro, have defined by ‘hollow in a plough’. Further, 
Spanish cueva, Portuguese cova proceed from an earlier *cova. I 
may spare myself the trouble of proving the originality of the ἃ 
in cavus by noting that, without exception, so far as I can learn, 
scholars connect Gr. καυλός ‘stalk’, Lith. ka&ulas ‘bone’, and 
Lat. caulae ‘passages’, deriving all these senses from ‘hollow’.** 
As to Gr. κοῖλος ‘hollow’, xaos ‘den’, κόοι ‘caves’ there is 
nothing to prove a lost F, rather than a lost y or o, until a 


AN ERRONEOUS PHONETIC SEQUENCE. 199 


yet undiscovered inscription or manuscript, with F, or v, etc., 
comes to light. Meantime we may define xé-os by ‘lair’, and 
derive from κεῖται ‘lies’. I note τὰ κῷα, ‘the indented sides 
of the dice’, where the best authorities seem to warrant the 
subscript iota. Should this term be connected with the island 
of Cos, as the name of the opposite side of the dice, ra yia, 
seems to show, then we might ask ourselves, with an atlas 
before us, how Cos got its name? Thus the equation of Lat. 
cohum with κῶος need not involve cavus at all. If it did, 
κόοι With o may show a specific dialectal shortening of vowel in 
Greek.” For the Iberian words cited we might advance the notion 
of a Greek source (Massilia), which would be to admit the F in 
the Greek word (cf. κόϊλλαι in Alcaeus, 15, 14, but Pomtow reads 
κοίιλαι). The Iberian words may just as well, however, be of 
Germanic origin from, or in some way affected by, an early Low 
German cognate of English cove. I note in passing, but without 
stopping here for further explanation, that a connection is pos- 
sible between cavea ‘cave’ and Gr. καίει ‘burns’ (cf. aedes ‘house’, 
but originally only ‘ hearth’),—the ‘fire’, to wit, of the primitive 
cave dweller, of a Robinson Crusoe, reduced to primitive condi- 
tions. And the primitive man,”* Robinson Crusoe’s man Friday, 
uses fire as his chisel, his tool of excavation; cavat, ‘he hollows 
out with fire’. 

If FOVE be not certainly for fave, and I think the affirmative of 
this proposition incapable, with our present material, of proof; 
if the originality of the a in cavus be not put in question by Gr. 
xéot; if cohum and Iberian *cova be susceptible of explanation 
without assuming Italic *cova ;—I see no material left for dating 
our supposed law. 

In Latin /avzt ‘bathes’ beside Gr. Ade ‘washes’, we have a 
really strong case for the law, as Armenian /oganam ‘I bathe 
myself’ may be taken to warrant ὅ for the primitive period. Since 
no clear case of a form in ὁ belonging to this group has been 
pointed out, some scholars are ready to explain the a/o variation 
as a primitive gradation. It is possible that a wider survey of 
this group may discover a cognate in Gr. ἀπο-λαύει ‘enjoys’. An 
analogous correlation of senses is found in Latin madet ‘is wet, 
drenched, full of’: Skr. mddatz ‘rejoices’; further repeated in 
Skr. médate ‘rejoices, is merry’: Gr. μυδᾷ ‘is wet’; and we can 
scarcely doubt that made?¢ and μυδᾷ are ultimately cognate, if we 
note the diphthongal Lithuanian maudyiz ‘to bathe’. The Ger- 


200 EDWIN W. FAY. 


man verb Jaden means ‘to wash, quicken, refresh’, with some 
question as to which signification is primary. The primitive bath 
involves some form of rubbing, scrubbing or scraping (stripping), 
and nothing prevents our connecting German waschen with O. IR. 
Jaiscim ‘I squeeze’.” Similarly Lith. mduju ‘I strip’ (‘remove 
by cutting or scraping’), maukiz ‘I strip smooth (Lat. macus 
‘snivel’) are cognate with O. Bulg. my¢z ‘to bathe’. A similar 
semantic series is found in ῥαίνει ‘sprinkles’, pate ‘strikes’, ῥέει 
‘flows’, if these be correctly grouped together.* 

Now by bringing Skr. /ava-s ‘cutting’ into the group with /avat 
‘scrubs’, we may set upa root LAW” ‘cut, scrape, scour’,—and 
in the trade of the tanner scraping and scouring are one and the 
same operation. In Latin, moreover, we might expound /év-zt by 
‘has rubbed’,—cf. particularly delet (from *delev-et?) and delev-zt 
‘has rubbed out’, /év-zs ‘smooth’, Gr. λεῖος from *AnFyos(?)—so 
as to fit into a long-vowel series with Javit, from a root LEw. 
The root LAW may be identified with LEW by regarding the a in 
the Greek words as in some way secondary, like the problematic 
a of πλᾶθος." Then λόει" belongs to LOw, the deflected form of 
LEW. 

Still another possibility: the reduced grade to a root LEw—and 
all the long-vowel forms may be long-grades in a short-vowel series 
—would be either Zz or Zw. In Latin we might derive from lw not 
only /avat,—shortened “from */avat by the rule of vowel before 
vowel,” v between similar vowels not preventing this; or originally 
short, if Osthoff’s claim for /a- from ᾿ be right—* but also alveus 
‘tub’ and, with secondary meaning along the lines of well-known 
vulgar phrases, alvus ‘belly’. As davat has all the look of a 
denominative, we need not scruple to define it by ‘tubs’, in the 
dialect of Old England. The word alimen ‘alum’, a scouring 
substance used by the dyer, may also belong to this group. 

I do not feel it advisable, however, to make /avit (3d conjug.) 
a form structurally different to Ade, especially in view of Lucilius’ 
elovies, though a consideration of the corresponding citations 
makes me raise the question whether e/ovies is not cognate to 
elevit.*° That davat is the product of */ovat, with assimilation of 
o to the following a, and more particularly in forms accented like 
lavdtis, seems to me a proposition we may not refuse to grant, 
even though we cannot prove it directly. The Latin glossaries’ 
gives us /acatio for locatio, clabaca (i. 6. clavaca) and claucus for 
cloaca.** 


AN ERRONEOUS PHONETIC SEQUENCE. 201 


Summing up here the discussion of /avat: semantic parallels 
can be adduced to support a cognation between /avat and Gr. 
ἀπολαύει, ‘enjoys’, deriving both from LEW, Low in a long-vowel 
series (with problematic a in the Greek forms). Whatever the 
vocalism of its root be, a reduced grade Tw is possible, whence 
in Latin @/v-, or ἠᾶυ- (Ὁ lév-). Or, inferring from elovies: λόει 
original */ovzt, the change in /avit may have come about by a 
specific Latin vowel assimilation in /avémus, lavdtis, etc. 

A sound etymology cited for the law seems to me to be Lat. 
pavet‘is fear struck, trembles’: Gr. πτοεῖ ‘frightens’, cf. πτήσσει 
1) ‘frightens’, 2) ‘cowers, is frightened’, πτώσσει ‘crouches’, 
πεπτηώς ‘crouching’. But beside pavet is pavit ‘strikes’, with the 
same correlation to favet ‘is frightened’ (‘is fear-struck’) that we 
see in zacit ‘strikes’: zaceZ ‘lies, is struck’. In Gr. πταίει 1) ‘trips’, 
2) ‘stumbles’ we have a specialization of the meaning of πτοεῖ 
and πτήσσει On the one hand, and of παίει ‘strikes’ on the other 
[οἴ π(τ)όλεμος, π(τ)όλις]. The whole secret of the vocalism of this 
group we need not examine here, but merely justify the ἃ in 
pavet, pavit by the a of the Greek forms. 

Apparently strong evidence for the law is yielded by cavet ‘is 
wary, bewares’: κοεῖ ‘hears, heeds’. If the specific sense of κοεῖ 
is ‘hears’, as it may well be, why need we separate it from ἀκ- ού-ει 
(cf. ἀκοή ‘ hearing’)? Hesychius furnishes the further forms koa’ ἀκούει, 
and ἐκοᾶμες᾽ ἠκούσαμεν. Accepting Kretschmer’s®’ explanation of 
ἀκ-ούτει: Gothic h-aus-jan ‘to have sharp ears’, κτιο-εῖ corres- 
ponds in its reduced grade with h-aus-jan. The accord between 
the vocalism of κοᾷ and of ἀκροάομαι constitutes a further argument 
for their cognation with h-aus-jan. 

If.we follow the current definitions, θυοσ-κόος means the ‘sacri- 
ficing priest’, and Hesychian θυοσκεῖ means ‘make burnt offerings’. 
These and Hesychian κοίης ‘priest? we might connect with καίει 
‘burns’,** deriving xoins from *xoFyns and θυοσ-κόος from °-xaes, 
with assimilation of a to the neighboring o’s. To the same root 
we may safely allot O. Bulg. £ovati, Lith. Aautz ‘to forge’. In 
English ews the sense of ‘hammers metal’ has yielded to ‘ham- 
mers with metal, cuts’. In Skr. £dévaca-s ‘coat of mail, bodice, 
jacket’, Gr. καυνάκης ‘ cloak’, **°—said to be of Persian manufacture—, 
[κυνέη ‘helmet’ (?)], xavoia ‘felt hat’, κῶας ‘fleece’, Lith. kauras 
‘carpet’ we have further cognates. Nearly the entire shift of 
meaning of these words is exhibited by English corselet, corset, 
if we start with ‘coat of mail’ as the primary signification. How- 


202 EDWIN W. FAY. 


ever, felt-making, with its beating and heating, is not unlike 
forging in its mechanical processes. 

We may see in the Balto-Slavic words how naturally the sense 
of ‘forges’ develops from ‘burns,’ and we need not be told how 
easily technical terms shift from a special art to artistry in general, 
e. g., in τέκτων, Skr. ¢¢ksatz** and their cognates; so also in Latin, 
in faber ‘smith, fadre ‘skilfully, ingeniously.’ Thus with O. 
Bulg. Zovati ‘to forge’ we may connect Skr. kavi-s ‘ wise, shrewd’ 
and, with a bad sense, Lavatni-s, kavari-s, ‘selfish, stingy.’ Cer- 
tain Slavic cognates* develop the sense of ‘treacherous’ and so 
do other words of the same meaning, e. g. English forges, Gr. 
πλάσσει, Lat. fabrefecit (see e. g. Plautus, Most., 892). I see no 
reason why we may not explain Lat. cavef ‘is wary’ as a denom- 
inative to an adjectival *cavo- ‘cunning, wary,’ a slightly oppro- 
brious counterpart of Skr. kavi-s ‘wise.’ For the vocalism of 
the root it will be well to note Hesychian «éa* ἐνέχυρα ‘sureties,’ 
with the same legal sense as cautzo in Latin. 

I briefly sum up the meanings found in the above group: A., 
verbal: 1) burn, (s)melt, 2) forge,—z2a) counterfeit, deceive—, 3) 
hew, cut, etc. with a transfer from metal working to wood working; 
B., adjectival: workmanlike, skilful, wise, cunning, wary. 

We are now prepared to add certain other words to this group,— 
Lat. cadit ‘forges,’ Skr. ki-dayati, ki-layati ‘burns’; Lat. cau-les, 
Skr. kit-lam ‘cliff,’ from the sense of ‘cut,’ cf. English scar 
‘scaur’ : shear. With this pair we can join the explanation 
already advanced for Lat. cavus (v. on cavea, p. 199), though cavus 
perhaps means literally ‘cleft,’ as caw-dex may mean ‘cleft wood.’ 
Greek is prolific of forms in «i-, 6. g., κύδάζει ‘abuses’ (: cavilla, v. 
supra, p. 192), κύ-διστος ‘most skilful, reputed for skill,’ κύτρει 
‘strikes, hits upon, gets,’ κυ-ρίσσει ‘strikes (with horns ).’ 

In all the forms already adduced the initial k- seems to be a 
pure guttural, but Gothic hawz ‘hay’ and Gr. ποίη ‘ fodder’ bear 
association with this group if we construct a base QOW-YA. It is 
a fact of some importance that the four labializing languages all 
fail to labialize before wz, and I see no reason why this phenomenon 
may not be dated in the Aryan period, whence beside QoW we 
might expect KU; or, even dating the phenomenon in the derived 
languages, we may look for confusion of g and &. Thus we may 
not only reconcile Gr. ποίη with this group, but also compare Skr. 
kavyd-s ‘wise, seer, poet,’ kavya-m ‘poem’ with Gr. ποιητής ‘ poet.’ 
I note that Homer uses ποιεῖ of the acts of the smith and the car- 


AN ERRONEOUS PHONETIC SEQUENCE, 203 


penter, and after him it is used of the sculptor and poet. We 
may illustrate by O. Eng. /ér-smzp, ‘lore-smith,’ wandor-smip, 
‘miracle doer,’ wvdht-smip, ‘crime-doer,’ gryn-smip, ‘grief-causer’ 
etc., which show a similar generalization of meaning. It is hardly 
necessary to add that ποιδέει may be legitimately deduced from 
*75Fye, and no Sanskrit scholar, I take it, will be particularly 
drawn to its equation with czzdti ‘heaps, gathers,’ **—even with 
Lat. struzt ‘heaps, builds’ before his eyes.’ 

We have now passed in review the evidence for Latin av 
from ov, and 1 have offered for all alleged cases explanations, 
phonetically normal, and semantically plausible, not involving the 
equation of Lat. av with the ov of any other language,—save for 
the single group /avit : λόει, and here, besides other possibilities, 
we cannot disprove the suggestion that in /avave vowel assimila- 
tion has taken place. 

UNIVERSITY OF TEXAS. EDWIN W. Fay. 


1 Lindsay, Lat. Lang., p. 235. ®Horton-Smith, Am. Jr, Phil., τό, 457. 
3 Buecheler, Rhein. Mus., 52,392. 4 Vol.20,90. °K. Z.,37,1 seq. ® Woch. 
Klass. Phil., 1895, 923 [and again in the current volumeof K.Z.]. ‘*Indog. 
Ablaut, 835, a. ὅ Varro, af. Gellium, 2, 10. °Goetz, 7hesaurus Glossarum 
Emendatarum, s.v. y., e.g., Guhl und Koner, Leben d. Griech. u. 
Roemer, fig. 413. 1! Transac, Am. Phil. Assoc., 29, 181. 1? Indog. Forsch., 
Anz., 11, 173. !8v. the essay cited at 11. 182[but v. Andresen, deutsche 
Volksetymologie’, 9]. 14Rhein, Mus., 51, 326. 15 Keil, Gram. Lat. 1, 296. 
16 y. also 4. ™v. Schreiber’s Atlas, xviii, 5. %7C.I.L. xv, 7065. εὑ 
Buecheler, Carm. Epigr. Selec., no. 34. %v. Hehn’s Kulturpflanzen ἃ. 
Hausthiere®, 588. 30 pace Schrader, Β. Β., 15, 129. 3} Fick-Stoke’s Woert., 
p. 164. %2v, Brugmann, Grundriss, 12, 600 and Bezzenberger, (in title no. 
21), p. 163. %%v. Hirt, B. B., 24, 218 seq., 290. 3 Ribbeck’s Scaen. Rom. 
Poesis Frag.) %WVahlen’s Ennii Frag. *v., e. g., Hoffmann, Gr. Dial., 2, 
437. “ἵν. Brugmann, Gr. Gram.? 829. ὅν. Mason, Woman’s Share in 
Primitive Culture, 32 et al. ὅϑν, Kluge, Etym. Woert.,s.v. *°v. Prellwitz, 
Etym. Woert., s. v. 3!v. Hirt, cited in no. 7, §115. °2v. G. Meyer’s Gr. 
Gram..? §35, Hirt, 1]. ο., 8282. 33Solmsen, l.c., 24. but v. Brugmann, 
Grundriss, 1,2 §514, anm. 2. as, Nonium, p. 103, lines 27,24. 35 Schu- 
chardt, Vokalismus, 1,179. 37K. Z., 33, 563 seq. 3850 Prellwitz, l.c.,s.v., 
κοιάομαι, with a query. 39 pace Schrader, ]. 6.7 Ρ. 131. 4° v. the etymological 
lexica of Prellwitz and Uhlenbeck,s. vv. ἣν. Miklosich, Woert., p. 153. 
45 pace Brugmann, l.c., p. 589; Gr. Gram.? §178. 





THE CONNECTION BETWEEN MUSIC AND 
POETRY IN EARLY GREEK 
LITERATURE. 


"Ore δὲ πρὸς τὴν μουσικὴν οἰκειότατα διέκειντο οἱ ἀρχαῖοι δῆλον 
καὶ ἐξ Ὁμήρου: (Athenaeus, xiv, 632 c.) 


It is a familiar fact that in some of the most highly developed 
forms of Greek literature, the sister arts of poetry, music and 
dance were combined and produced a homogeneous effect. Thus 
an ode of Pindar’s was not merely a poetical but also a musical 
composition, which was composed not to be read, but to be sung 
to instrumental accompaniment, and not only sung, but danced 
with appropriate and expressive gestures. It is, in fact, this union 
of the arts that accounts for the marvelous elaboration of form 
which the greatest of Pindar’s odes exhibit. 

In most of the forms of melic poetry, of which the Pindaric ode 
is an example, poetry, music and dance are inseparable. No one 
art is employed to the exclusion of the other two. In the drama, 
however, while all three arts are utilized at one time or another, 
they are employed in combination only in the lyrical parts, and 
even here there are exceptions. 

This union of the arts in the most complex of Greek literary 
forms is due, not to any artificial process of combination, but 
to the survival of earlier and even primitive ideas. Aristotle, 
“‘master of those who know,” looking back as an historian over 
almost the whole field of Greek classical literature, realizes that 
the arts of poetry, music and dancing stand in essential unity and 
rest upon a common basis. They are all imitative arts, imitating 
by means of language, melody or rhythm the characters, pas- 
sions and actions of men.t’ Rhythm, indeed, may be said to be 
common to all three, for poetry is rhythm expressed in words, 
music is rhythm expressed in sounds, and the dance is rhythm 
expressed in bodily movements.’ Greek literary history furnishes 


1 Aristotle, Poetics, 1. 4 and 1.5. 
3 Butcher, Aristotle’s Theory of Poetry and Fine Art* (Macmillan, 1898), 


p- 138. 


206 HT. RUSHTON FAIRCLOUGH. 


abundant illustrations of this union of the rhythmic arts. The 
lyric or dramatic poet was necessarily a musician, and not only 
wrote the verses to be sung, but gave them their musical setting.’ 
More than this, he possessed a practical knowledge of orchestic, 
and, as χοροδιδάσκαλος, Originally taught the chorus the various 
gestures, postures and attitudes, which, under the name dancing, 
aided in the expression of emotion and the interpretation of his 
verse. 

In these days most of us would probably be slow to admit that 
our complex art of music is in any sense imitative of human life, 
while dancing has been vulgarized, and as a fine art has almost 
disappeared from our midst. But though each of these sister 
arts now moves along independent lines, still there can be no 
doubt that the Greek view of their essential unity—based upon 
the common rhythmic element—is in strict accord with primitive 
conceptions, and may even to-day be illustrated in the customs 
of many aboriginal peoples. 

The union, for example, of song and dance, is almost universal 
among the primitive peoples of the world. The aborigines of 
America, Africa and Australasia almost invariably combine 
dancing with vocal and instrumental music.* Dance and song, 
indeed, are “50 unified, that it is neither possible to treat of the 
subject of primitive dance without primitive music, nor to make 
it even probable by means of ethnological examples that they 
ever were separated.” * 

The third member in the triad, poetry, can hardly claim a 
status as ancient as that of dance or music. Among primitive 
races vocal music often exists without language of any sort, the 
expressions used being mere aids to vocalization. In many cases 
though definite words are used, these are practically meaningless. 
Poetry, indeed, however simple, has an intellectual basis and 
implies a certain amount of mental cultivation. It is, however, 
not infrequently developed by races that are still in a primitive 
stage of culture, in which case it is invariably set forth in the 


1Cf, Emil Reich, Hungarian Literature (London, 1898), p. 30: “Music 
in Hungary is the vocal and instrumental folk-lore of the people, and no 
lyrical poet of the Magyars could help writing without having in view the 
musical adaptation of his poem.’’ 

2 Wallaschek, Primitive Music (London, 1893), passim. 

3 [bid., p. 187. 


CONNECTION BETWEEN MUSIC AND POETRY. 207 


form of song. The Maoris, Australians and Tahitians have song- 
poetry of a comparatively artistic value. 

An important feature of all primitive music is its preference for 
rhythm as compared with melody. The Iroquois Indians, for 
example, have a highly developed sense of rhythm in their music 
and dances, but their melodies are very poor.. The Samoans, a 
highly musical race, always keep time well, though they care 
little for distinct melodies; while among the Siamese, a people 
devoted to song, “modulation and expression,” we are told, 
“were sacrificed to power and rhythmic effect.”* In fact, in 
the music of primitive races, melody is always a matter of slight 
consideration. ‘Wedonot meet with a single instance among 
savages of melody, fixed according to musical principles.” * 

Among savages, dancing and singing directly reflect pleasur- 
able and painful states of mind. The native Australian sings, when 
hungry or sated, when angry or glad. The songs of Indians vary 
distinctly in character, according as the occasion is a mournful or 
merry one. The Greenland Eskimos can express various passions 
in their dances and drum music. Similarly, nearly all aboriginal 
people recognize the great emotional power of music and use 
it both to cure disease and to banish evil spirits. Under the 
influence of his native rhythms, the Australian rushes to the 
hunt and the fray, or is soothed into tranquillity and submission.‘ 
Even among the most civilized nations of to-day, no art takes 
such a direct hold upon the emotions as music. You will see 
more emotion in a concert-room than in an art-gallery, and this 
is especially true when the music is of the simpler, more tangible 
kind. 

In the light of these facts, the testimony of Greek philosophers 
as to both the ethical and the imitative character of music is 
more intelligible, inasmuch as Greek music, though far removed 
in point of development from that of primitive races, was much 
simpler than the modern art. Just as in China music has 
been under state supervision, and edicts have been issued 
against effeminate airs, so Plato, in the firm conviction that 
melodies and rhythms are expressive of character and react upon 
it, would have the whole musical art controlled by authority.* 
“A musical training,” he tells us, “is of supreme importance, 


W7bid., p. 51. 2 Ibid., p. 21. 3 Ibid., p. 230. 4 Jbid., pp. 39, 44 ff. 
5 Plato, Republic, iii, 398 C ff. 


208 H, RUSHTON FAIRCLOUGH. 


because rhythm and melody sink into our inmost soul, and take 
hold of it most powerfully.”* Hence the importance of admitting 
into education only the right kind of rhythms and melodies— 
those, namely, which will contribute to the upbuilding of a manly, 
noble and beautiful character. Unwholesome music, through its 
pernicious effect upon the citizens, may ultimately disturb the 
most important institutions of the state.’ It isin a similar spirit 
that Aristotle recognizes in musical forms the very image and 
reflection of human passions and character.* The various modes 
of Greek music have their own peculiar character, imitating 
various states of feeling and affecting the hearers in distinctly 
different ways. Even the curative properties of music are recog- 
nized by Aristotle, who speaks of sacred melodies, in which men 
laboring under religious frenzy have found healing and cleansing 
for their souls.* 

Thus we see how, even in the late days of Plato and Aristotle, 
Greek music preserved some of the striking features of the prim- 
itive art. It was still in a comparatively rudimentary stage and 
maintained a close hold upon human life, exerting with its marked 
rhythm a strong psychical and even physical influence. It 
was simple and direct, a vehicle for emotional expression, and 
appealing directly to the feelings of the hearer. As with Chinese 
music, its modes were believed to be full of significance and moral 
import. The connection between words and tune was close and 
vital, the time of the music coinciding perfectly with the metre 
of the verse. The unified art was, however, in such a stage, that 
poetry was the dominant element, the music being subsidiary and 
serving not to obscure, but to emphasize and illustrate the force 
ofthe words. To Plato, indeed, music without words is a mean- 
ingless anomaly.’ Further, though the Greeks were familiar with 
harmony,* of which even savage nations have some knowledge,’ 
they never employed it in vocal music, their choruses being sung 
in unison, so that the poetry did not become indistinct amid a 
variety of melodies. 


1 Jbid.,401 Ὁ. *JLbid.,iv,424C. 8 Aristotle, Pol. v (viii) 5. 1340 ἃ 18. 

4 [bid., 7.1342 a το: ἐκ δὲ τῶν ἱερῶν μελῶν ὁρῶμεν τούτους, ὅταν χρήσωνται 
τοῖς ἐξοργιάζουσι τὴν ψυχὴν μέλεσι, καθισταμένους, ὥσπερ ἰατρείας τυχόντας καὶ 
καθάρσεως. 5 Plato, Laws ii, 669 E. 

6 Westphal, Die Musik des griechischen Alterthumes (Leipzig, 1883), p. 24. 

7 Wallaschek, Primitive Music, pp. 139 ff. 


CONNECTION BETWEEN MUSIC AND POETRY. 209 


In view, then, of the intimate relations maintained between 
music and poetry even in the late days of Greek literature, let 
us endeavor to ascertain how close a connection existed between 
them in the age portrayed for us in the earliest of our extant 
literature, the epic. 

It must, of course, be assumed that the //zad and Odyssey are 
the resultant of a long process of antecedent development. The 
epic, indeed, presupposes lyric sources, which in their turn, if we 
may draw conclusions from the customs of various aboriginal races, 
go back to a primitive drama of a pantomimic character.’ Of 
such a drama we learn very little from Homer.’ In one passage 
from the /Ziad* we have a reminiscence in a dance of youths and 
maidens, headed by two κυβιστητῆρε or professional players, who 
perform in dumb show.* A similar scene in the Odyssey repre- 
sents a minstrel singing to the lyre, while the κυβιστητῆρε perform.® 

Of the lyrical forerunners of Homeric epic, we have much 
more knowledge. Thus Homer mentions several forms of both 
choral and solo lyric. The paean, for example, was sung by the 
Achaeans after a sacrificial feast to propitiate Apollo.® It was 
also sung as a song of victory after the death of Hector.’ Of the 
threnus, or lament for the dead, we have an instance near the 
close of the //zad,* where Hector is bewailed. 


παρὰ δ᾽ εἷσαν ἀοιδοὺς 
θρήνων ἐξάρχους, οἵ τε στονόεσσαν ἀοιδὴν 


ΠΗ» ΡΝ y τ 
of μὲν δὴ θρήνεον, ἐπὶ δὲ στενάχοντο γυναῖκες. 


Here follow solos, sung by Andromache, Hecabe and Helen, 
respectively (of 21, 12 and 14 verses in length), with whom 
the mourning women wail in accord. Similarly, over the body 
of Achilles a threnus is chanted by the Muses themselves respon- 
sively, while the Nereids and the Achaeans join in the lamen- 
tation.’ The ymenaeus is described in connection with the Shield 


1 Wallaschek, Primitive Music, p. 271. 

2 Unless otherwise indicated, I use this name to embrace only the //iad 
and Odyssey. 3 590-605. 

4In Hector’s boast, olda δ᾽ ἐνὶ cradin δηίῳ μέλπεσθαι "Apne (H 241), there 
is doubtless a reference to an ancient war-dance, in which a battle-scene 
would be acted in pantomime. To such a scene there is also an allusion 
in Il 617, where the Cretan Meriones is called a good dancer (ὀρχηστής). 

δ'διχῦ, CAVAT3s 1X 301 ff. 8Q 720 ff. 9 60 ff. 

14 


210 HT, RUSHTON FAIRCLOUGH. 


of Achilles. Pipes and strings (αὐλοὶ φόρμιγγές re) with dancing 
accompany the bridal song. 

The /inus was one of the early Volkslieder of Greece, being a 
plaintive nature-song on the death of a beautiful youth who 
typified the passing of summer. As described by Homer, it was 
asolo sung by a boy to his own string accompaniment, while 
youths and maidens danced, shouted and gesticulated in concert.” 
In the Odyssey, Calypso and Circe are represented as singing 
(ἀοιδιάουσ᾽ ὀπὶ καλῇ) as they ply the loom.’ Nothing is said as to 
the burden of theirsongs. Here the noise of the shuttle would be 
a substitute for the music of strings. In the //zad, Achilles occu- 
pies his leisure time in singing the glories of heroes (κλέα ἀνδρῶν) 
to the accompaniment of a clear-toned harp (φόρμιγγι Acyetn).* 

Doubtless, other varieties of song, religious and secular, were 
familiar to Homer, but we must confine our attention to those 
actually mentioned in the epics, of which the most important are 
the lays setting forth the κλέα ἀνδρῶν. In these we must recognize 
the immediate predecessors of the epic poems, which—whatever 
be our theory of epic composition—must be regarded as embrac- 
ing a number of efy/iza or songs of an epic character. Such an 
epyllion was the song of Phemius,° dealing with the return of the 
Achaeans from Troy, ‘‘the newest song to float about men’s 
ears,”® or that of Demodocus,’ setting forth Odysseus’ quarrel 
with Achilles, or again the same bard’s song on Odysseus and the 
wooden horse.* A song of this sort is described by Alcinous® 
85 ἀοιδῆς ὕμνος or ‘linked song’, ὕμνος having its early meaning as 
derived from the root found in Latin swerve, English ‘sew’. Thus 
ὕμνος, as used of song, and the once disputed ῥαψῳδία have pre- 
cisely the same original force, a fact well illustrated by the phrase 
which Hesiod” applies to himself and Homer in the words ἐγὼ καὶ 
Ὅμηρος ἀοιδοὶ μέλπομεν ἐν veapois ὕμνοις ῥάψαντες dordyv.” 

The numerous legends of early Greek bards, such as Orpheus, 
Musaeus, Eumolpus and Olympus, point to a wide diffusion of 


1% 491 ff. 2% 5609 ff. ΒΕ GI, kK 220. 4T 189. 
5a 326. δα, 582: 1673 ff. 84 499 ff. 
94 420. WCf. Smyth, Greek Melic Poets, p. xxvii. 11 ¥r, 244 Rz. 


2 Cf. Sittl, Geschichte der griechischen Litteratur, 1, p. 119, who compares 
pantew with singen and siuwan (Eng. ‘sew’). Koegel, Geschichte der 
deutschen Litteratur, p. 143, connects simgen with seg- (iusece, ἔννεπε, and 
therefore sagen), but not so Kluge. 


CONNECTION BETWEEN MUSIC AND POETRY, 2τι 


minstrelsy throughout Greece in prehistoric days. In the cata- 
logue of the ships’ is told the story of such a traditional bard, the 
Thracian Thamyris, who is evidently regarded by the author as 
a wandering minstrel, ready to enter into contests of song. These 
bards, to be sure, figure nowhere else in the //zad. Achilles, as 
we have seen, was his own minstrel, and the dodo, who in Ὡ 720 
chant the threnus over Hector, were professional mourners who 
led the dirge. In the Odyssey, however, the ἀοιδοί have a recog- 
nized position at court, and here, prompted by the Muse? or 
“stirred by the god”,® they sing (ἀείδειν) to their own string- 
accompaniment both κλέα ἀνδρῶν and tales of the gods,* making a 
selection from their 7é@pertozre of their own accord® or, on request, 
taking up a narrative at some particular point®in the story. In 
the palace of Alcinous, Demodocus, on one day, besides accom- 
panying with his lyre the dance of the Phaeacian boys,’ sang 
three lays, two about Odysseus, and one on the love of Ares 
and Aphrodite.* Other subjects for the minstrel’s song (ἀοιδή) 
recorded in Homer are Orestes,’ Penelope,” and Clytaemnestra.” 

The minstrel” is skilled in lyre and song”* and his art is de- 
scribed * by the expression κίθαρις καὶ dowdy. He accompanies the 
dancing,” and ὀρχηστύς and ἀοιδή are mentioned as closely associ- 
ated pleasures. Evidently the art of the Homeric minstrel is 
in that primitive stage, when singing, playing and dancing are 
intimately connected and almost form a single interest, such as is 
well illustrated by the description of the /zzos in 3 569 ff." The 
dance, however, does not usually accompany the minstrel’s song, 
and in his performance (a combination of vocal and instrumental 


1B 594 ff. ΒΟ 73. 3 ὁρμηθεὶς θεοῦ, A 490. 
4CfsTheocritus, xvi, I, 2. 


et toi ce : Bees Hay 
αἰεὶ τοῦτο Διὸς κούραις μέλει, αἰὲν ἀοιδοῖς 
ὑμνεῖν ἀθανάτους, ὑμνεῖν ἀγαθῶν κλέα ἀνδρῶν. 


δθ.4 Ὁ. 6 @ soo, ἔνθεν ἑλών. 7@ 262. 8@ 266 ff. 

9 y 204. 10 ὦ 197. 11 ὦ 200. 

12Tn connection with this whole subject, compare Koehler, “ Uber den 
Stand Berufsmdassiger Sanger im Nationalen Epos Germanischer Volker,” 
in Germania, XV (:870), pp. 27 ff. 

13 φόρμιγγος ἐπιστάμενος καὶ ἀοιδῆς, φ 406. 

14a 159; cf. N 731; B 599, 600. 

1 Cf. p 145. 16 q@ 421, 6 253, p 605, σ 304. 

17 See above, p. 210, also Prickard, Aristotle on the Art of Poetry, ἡ. 21. 


212 HT, RUSHTON FAIRCLOUGH. 


music) it is the story—the words used—which affords the main 
charm for the hearer. This story, however, is set forth in song, 
and if divested of its musical garb would no longer be a tale 
of minstrelsy, such as appealed so powerfully to the Greeks of 
Homer’s day.? 

This musical dress for epic narrative is regularly defined by 
the verb ἀείδειν. Though an instrumental accompaniment was 
as regular a feature of the minstrel’s art as vocal song, yet ἀείδειν, 
embracing as it did the narrative, was much more representative 
of the entire performance than such a verb as κιθαρίζειν, which in 
fact is found in Homer only once,* or φορμίζειν, which occurs only 
three times.* On the other hand, ἀείδειν, as applied to Phemius, 
* Demodocus and bards in general, is used no less than twenty- 
eight times. It is also used twice of Achilles, as he sings the 
κλέα ἀνδρῶν," and twice of the Muses themselves, once as they sing 
in Olympus while Apollo plays the lyre,® and once of their contest 
with the boastful Thamyris.’. This, then, is the prevailing appli- 
cation of the verb, for of actual singing in other connections 
(presumably in combination with words), ἀείδειν or the ailied 
ἀοιδιάειν is used only eight times. It is also found once in con- 
nection with the nightingale’s song,® and once is used figuratively 
of the bow-string, which, when touched by Odysseus, sang ‘‘like 
a swallow.’’® 

There still remains one instance of the word in Homer, and 
that is in the opening line of the //iad. Here, in the invocation 
to the Muse, the poet calls upon the goddess to do that which he 
himself does under her inspiration. The epic poet, who, like 
his own Achilles or Demodocus, sings the κλέα ἀνδρῶν is himself a 
minstrel. guided by the Muse, and as his first word (μῆνιν) intro- 
duces the theme of his story, so the second (ἄειδε) expresses the 
mode by which it is to be presented to his hearers.” 


1Cf£. p 519, ἔπε᾽ ἱμερόεντα βροτοῖσιν. 

2 Cf. p 518-521. ὡς δ᾽ ὅτ᾽ ἀοιδὸν ἀνὴρ ποτιδέρκεται, ὅς τε θεῶν ἐξ 
ἀείδῃ, δεδαὼς ἔπε᾽ ἱμερόεντα βροτοῖσιν, 
τοῦ δ᾽ ἄμοτον μεμάασιν ἀκουέμεν, ὁππότ᾽ ἀείδῃ" 
ὡς ἐμὲ κεῖνος ἔθελγε παρήμενος ἐν μεγάροισιν. 


33570. 4In the Odyssey only, the instance in = 605 being spurious. 

5 I 189, Igt. 6 A 604. 7B 508. 8 IENO: 9 4II. 

10 Tn the corresponding line of the Odyssey, ἔννεπε is used, as elsewhere 
ἔσπετε (cf. B 484), from the root found in zmsece, sagen, say. The two terms 


CONNECTION BETWEEN MUSIC AND POETRY. 213 


Weare all, of course, familiar with a common use of the verb 
‘sing’, and its equivalents in various languages, according to 
which the poet is represented as a singer, whose productions are 
veritable songs. This use, it is needless to say, is more or less 
artificial, and for the most part is a mere imitation of the language 
of early poets, who actually did sing their compositions. How 
often, for instance, has this use of ἀείδειν in Homer suggested a 
word for the more learned, less naive poetry of later times? In 
arma virumgue cano Vergil imitates the opening of the Odyssey, 
but his verb he takes from that of the Ziad. Milton’s “sing, 
heavenly Muse!” comes directly from μῆνιν ἄειδε θεά. But Homer, 
living as he did in the very hey-day of Greek minstrelsy, and . 
being himself the greatest of all the dosdo/,’ is little likely to have 
used the verb in these opening words of the //zad in a purely 
artificial sense—a sense in which he employs it nowhere else, and 
which is at all times rare in Greek literature.*_ Thus in his great 
epic the word retains its primary and natural meaning. The poet 
was indeed a szzger, and Homeric poetry preserves this notable 
feature of the primitive poetic art. It was intended to be actually 
sung. 

As we have said, an instrumental accompaniment was a 
regular though less essential feature of the art of the dowdds.’ 
As Odysseus and the swineherd drew near to the palace, 
“the sound of the hollow lyre rang around them,”* ava γάρ 
σφισι βάλλετ᾽ ἀείδειν Φήμιος. Similarly, when Telemachus and 
the disguised Athene came among the suitors, an attendant 
placed a lyre in the hands of Phemius, and ἢ ro ὃ φορμίζων 


are in no sense contrasted, yet they are not synonymous. The one, ἀεΐδειν, 
involves the other, ἐνισπεῖν, and expresses not only the fact of telling a 
story, but alsothe manner of doing so. Compare what is said below on 
λέγειν Te καὶ ἄδειν in Plato. 

1Cf. Hesiod, Fr. 244 Rz., ἐγὼ καὶ “Ὅμηρος ἀοιδοὶ μέλπομεν kK. τ. A, 

2 The verb applicable to our ‘the poet sings’ or ‘writes’ is ποιεῖν or 
simply λέγειν, not ade. Plato nowhere uses gdew of the poet from whom 
he quotes. See p. 217 below. 

3 Tt is hardly necessary to call attention to the prominence of the harp or 
similar stringed instrument among the early Germanic and various other 
peoples. (Cf. Koegel, Geschichte der deutschen Litteratur, p. 142; “the non- 
strophic epic song was regularly delivered with harp accompaniment.”’ 
For its importance among the Old English, see Padelford, Old English 
Musical Terms, (Bonn, 1899) pp. 2, 6 ff. 4p 261-3. 


214 Hf, RUSHTON FAIRCLOUGH. 


ἀνεβάλλετο καλὸν ἀείδειν. It is a question whether in these passages 
ἀναβάλλεσθαι is used of the instrumental prelude, ‘‘sounded the 
prelude to his sweet singing”’, or of the opening of the song 
itself, “lifted up his voice in sweet song”. The latter inter- 
pretation is supported by a passage in the Hymn to Hermes? 


τάχα δὲ λιγέως κιθαρίζων 
γηρύετ᾽ ἀμβολάδην, ἐρατὴ δέ οἱ ἕσπετο φωνή, 


where ἀμβολάδην “by way of prelude” certainly modifies γηρύετο. 
However, even if Phemius “ touched the chords in prelude to his 
sweet singing”, it does not follow that the lyre was confined to 
the prelude and that the rest of the song was purely vocal. If 
such an interpretation were applied to the opening of Pindar’s 
First Pythian, we might infer from the beautiful apostrophe of the 
χρυσέα φόρμιγξ, which “with quivering strings gives the prelude 
to choir-leading overtures’’,* that only the prelude, but not the 
ode itself was accompanied by the strings. No one has ever 
imagined this. 

Tradition indicates that in reference to the lyre accompaniment 
there may have been some distinction between Homeric and 
Hesiodic epic. Hesiod is said to have been excluded from a 
Pythian musical contest, because he did not accompany himself 
on the lyre,* and Pausanias finds fault with a sculptor for repre- 
senting Hesiod with a κιθάρα on his knees, when the poems them- 
selves show that, as he sang, he held in his hand a laurel staff,° 
viz. that which the Muses gave him when they consecrated him 
to their service. In Homer, the staff is held as a sign of authority 
by heralds, judges and speakers in the assembly, but is never 
mentioned as a symbol of minstrelsy. Pindar, however, himself a 
Boeotian, and therefore probably more familiar with Hesiodic 
than Homeric symbolism, assigns the ῥάβδος to Homer, for “by 
the staff of his divine heroics he set forth the excellence (of Ajax) 
for others to sing ’’.® 

However, the very fact that Hesiod presented himself at a dis- 
tinctly musical contest would show that whether he employed 


1a 155; 50θ 266, of Demodocus. 21. 426. 
3 ἀγησιχόρων ὁπόταν προοιμίων 
ἀμβολὰς τεύχῃς ἐλελιζομένα. 4 Pausanias, Io. 7. 3. 


5 [bid., 9. 30. 3; Hesiod, Zheog. 30. 
5 κατὰ ῥάβδον ἔφρασεν θεσπεσίων ἐπέων λοιποῖς ἀθύρειν, Pindar, Zsth. 3. 56. 


CONNECTION BETWEEN MUSIC AND POETRY. 215 


the lyre or not he regarded his work as belonging to the musical 
art. Moreover, we must remember the striking difference in tone 
and intrinsic worth between Homeric and Hesiodic verse, much 
of the latter being mere prose in contents, though verse in form, 
so that Hesiod may not have found much favor at a Pythian 
contest. And finally, we must not forget that in thus gossiping 
about the old epic poets, Pausanias ‘‘seems to repeat the stories 
of the time when the richer and more elaborate lyric poetry came 
to look upon the old epic recitation as bald and poor.”’! 

The successors to the Homeric ἀοιδοί are the so-called rhapso- 
dists. The term ῥαψῳδός is of late origin, occurring first in 
Herodotus,’ who tells us that Clisthenes, tyrant of Sicyon (circa 
596-565 B. C.) stopped the rhapsodists from contending for prizes 
in Homeric verse, because Argos and the Argives are celebrated 
throughout. The verb ῥαψῳδεῖν first appears in the Ecclesiazusae 
of Aristophanes,’ and in Plato,‘ who applies it to Homer and 
Hesiod themselves. Hesiod’s own expression ῥάψαντες ἀοιδήν, and 
Pindar’s designation of the Homeridae,® ῥαπτῶν ἐπέων dodo, illus- 
trate the meaning of the first element ° in the compound,—a com- 
pound which could hardly have been formed before it was 
necessary to distinguish between varieties of dod;. Thus the 
term ῥαψῳδία, ‘stitched, i. 6. linked or continuous song,’ did not 
originate until other forms of dowdy came into prominence, and 
chiefly such as are associated with me/ic, a name which is prob- 
ably due to the grouping of words and music in members (xara 
péAn),” as contrasted with the unbroken continuous flow of epic 
and certain other forms of verse. Similarly, rhapsodists were 
sometimes called στιχῳδοί," because the poetry they rendered con- 
sisted of single lines, which were not grouped in melic systems, 

Closely connected with the rhapsodists is that body of verse 
which has come down to us known as the Homeric Hymns. 
These Hymns, showing as they do much diversity of language 
and tone, evidently belong to different times and places, and 


1 Mahaffy, Greek Literature, vol. I. p. 117, note 2. 

ea O7e 31,678. The play was produced in 393 B. c. 

4 Rep, x, 600 Ὁ. 5 Nem. 2. 2. 

δ See above, p. 210. For another explanation, see Croiset, Histoire de la 
Littérature Grecque, Vol. I, p. 412, note 3. 

7Cf, Smyth, Greek Melic Poets, pp. xviii ff. 

®Schol. ad Pind. Vem, 2. 1. 


216 Hf. ΟΕ ΘΙ ΣΙ 


testify to the wide-spread and long-continued custom of rhap- 
sodizing. We learn from Pindar’ and Plutarch? that rhapsodists 
composed hymns as preludes to their rendering of Homeric and 
other poetry. Hence, besides ὕμνοι, we also find the word προοίμια 
frequently used of these compositions,—a term appropriate 
enough to the smaller ymmns, though less so to the larger ones, 
some of which are long enough to be of independent interest. 

The Homeric Hymns were composed by rhapsodists in con- 
nection with various religious festivals, at which there were 
contests of song. Of such contests we have frequent notices 
from the close of the seventh century B. Cc. on, while tradition 
carries us back to the time of Homer himself. The most notable 
contest was connected with the Panathenaea, where by a law of 
Solon’s it was ordained that rhapsodists should render Homer in 
consecutive, not hap-hazard order. 

The most complete description which we possess of the rhapso- 
dist’s art is that given by Plato in his Jon. It is not necessary to 
give the details of this familiar picture, but we may note one 
important fact. Even in Plato’s day the rhapsodist’s rendition of 
Homer was regarded as a kind of musical performance. Thus 
ῥαψῳδία is not only a branch of μουσική, but it is grouped * with 
avAnots, κιθάρισις and κιθαρῳδία aS a kindred art, and as each of the 
other terms designates a form of vocal or instrumental music, it 
seems clear that ῥαψῳδία is regarded in a similar way. Moreover, 
the verb δειν is used of Ion’s rendition of the Odyssey® and of the 
performance of rhapsodists in general,’ and further, a portion of 
Homer as presented by a rhapsodist is even called by Plato a 
μέλος, a word which certainly implies a distinctly musical element. 

Notwithstanding Plato’s language, Professor Jebb claims® that 
“the rhapsode of Plato’s time clearly did not szzg Homer to 
music,” for though ἄδειν is used of Ion’s performances, “ that word 
was applicable to any solemn recitation: thus Thucydides applies 
it to the reciting of an oracular verse.” ® Jebb seems to forget 
that ‘‘ singing and recitation—as the very word recitative should 
be enough to remind any one—pass into each other by degrees 
imperceptible to any but a technical ear.” Moreover, the use of 


VNem. 2. 1. 2 De Musica, 6. *Jon, 530 A. 4 [bid., 533 B. 

δ) 2. B35 Be) Lesa Bens Τ Tbid., 536 B. 9 ®Jebb, Homer, p. 80. 

° Thucydides, 2. 54. 

10 Saintsbury, Zhe Flourishing of Romance and the Rise of Allegory (Scrib- 
ner’s 1897), p. 48. 


CONNECTION BETWEEN MUSIC AND POETRY. 217 


ἄδειν in Thucydides affords weak support for Jebb’s contention. 
It is found only in the second book, four times in all. In chapter 
8 we read: καὶ πολλὰ μὲν λόγια ἐλέγοντο, πολλὰ δὲ χρησμολόγοι ἦδον 
κι τ᾿ X., Where there is a distinct contrast between ordinary speak- 
ing and a professional mode of rendition, quite possibly singing.’ 
In chapter 21 ἄδειν is similarly used of the chanting of oracles by 
professional χρησμολόγοι, and in chapter 54 it is employed thus 
twice, for with ἄσονται we must doubtless supply of χρησμολόγοι and 
in the case of ἄδεσθαι the agency would be expressed by ὑπὸ τῶν 
χρησμολόγων. If the laws in certain states were “ conveyed to the 
people in forms of music and poetry,” why not oracles as well]?? 

Again, a study of Plato’s use of ἄδειν in other dialogues will 
confirm the view that in the oz the word does imply musical 
presentation. Thus the phrase λέγειν re καὶ ddev,* which is used 
several times, shows that dda» means more than λέγειν. In sub- 
stantive form the words become λόγοι τε καὶ δαί. In fact, λέγειν is 
used of plain speech, and dda» of the same speech, when it 
becomes song, such as a lover sings.* In one case, ddew is com- 
bined with ποιεῖν, the latter being used of poetical composition, 
the former of the rendering of the poem.® Of the fifty-four cases 
of ddew given in Ast’s Lexicon Platonicum there are probably 
very few where the word is not used literally of singing.’ In two, 
it is said to be equivalent to ce/ebrare.* In only two is it supposed 
to equal pronuntiare, but an examination of the passages " shows 


1 We must supply λόγια with the second πολλά and “ der Unterschied liegt 
in ἐλέγοντο und jjdov’’ (Classen). 

23 See Butcher, Some Aspects of the Greek Genius (Macmillan, 1893), p. 185: 
‘‘ we read of laws arranged as catches and sung after dinner,” 

3 Lachmann’s article (1833) Uber Singen und Sagen, in Kleinere 
Schriften, ed. by Miillenhoff (Berlin, 1876), pp. 461 ff. 

4 Plato, Lysis, 206 B. 

5 [bid., 205 D.; 205, E; 206 ΓΟ. Cf. Sympos. 214 B. (al. ἐπᾳ devv); Gorg. 502 B. 

6 Lysis, 205 D. 

™This may include the singing of birds (Phaedr. 85 A) and even the 
crowing of cocks (Sympos. 223 C). 

8 Lysis, 205 C: ἃ ἡ πόλις ὅλη ade, and 205 D, ἅπερ ai γραῖαι adovou. 

9 Jaws, ix, 854 C and Ὁ. Lucian, Herod. 833. 1, uses ade of the mode 
in which Herodotus presented his histories at Olympia, but we may note 
that (1) the historian was supposed to enter a contest, which was presum- 
ably musical (ov θεατὴν ἀλλ᾽ ἀγωνιστὴν παρεῖχεν ἑαυτόν) and therefore ἀδείν is 
probably used by analogy; (2) his books were called after the Muses in 


218 Hf, RUSHTON FAIRCLOUGH. 


that there it is used metaphorically, the laws proclaimed being 
treated as hymns and preludes (spootyia).’ 

In an enumeration of the early Greek musicians, beginning 
with Amphion, the fabled inventor of the citharoedic art, Plutarch 
includes Thamyris, Demodocus and Phemius, whose tales, he 
assures us, were similar to the poems of Stesichorus and the old 
lyric writers, who composed hexameters and set them to music 
(μέλη)." Terpander, too, “set airs, according to his nomes, to the 
verses of Homer as well as his own, and sang them at public 
contests”.® Terpander, in fact, was an Homeric fayodds,* whose 
own compositions, called later προοίμια κιθαρῳδικά, are very possibly 
represented in the extant Homeric Hymus.° 

From this passage in Plutarch we may draw two important 
inferences. In the first place, we have positive testimony that 
Homeric hexameters (non-strophic) were sung by Terpander, even 
as hexameters were sung afterwards by Stesichorus, the latter’s, 
however, being in strophic form. In the second place, the citha- 
roedic art existed long before Terpander, who, by his musical 
improvements, merely enriched and enlarged its scope. Thus 
the innovation here attributed to Terpander consisted not in the 
singing of Homeric verse, but in singing it according to definite 
musical styles, represented by his so-called zomes. If the more 
elaborate music of Terpander could be applied to Homeric verse, 


consequence of the recitation, and (3) he belongs to the infancy of prose, 
and his style has many traces of its poetical origin. Cf. Dionys. Halic. 
de Thucyd. ch. 23, p. 865. 

1See above p. 215f. In Plato, Ref. ii, 364 C, of μὲν κακίας πέρι εὐπετείας 
διδόντες, Muretus suggested ἄδοντες for διδόντες, but the change would not 
accord with Plato’s use of adevv. 

2 De Musica 3 : οἵ ποιοῦντες ἔπη τούτοις μέλη περιετίθεσαν. 

8 7δία., τοῖς ἔπεσι τοῖς ἑαυτοῦ καὶ τοῖς Ὁμήρου μέλῃ περιτιθέντα adew ἐν τοῖς 
ἀγῶσιν. 

4<¢Every ancient ἀοιδός is a rhapsodist, not because he sews songs to- 
gether, but because he is a composer and reciter of epic songs (ῥαπτὰ ἔπη). 
He recites his own and can also recite those of others’’. (Comparetti, Zhe 
Traditional Poetry of the Finns, translated by Anderton,—Longmans, 
1898—p. 357+) 

5 Plutarch, De Mus. 4: πεποίηται δὲ τῷ Τερπάνδρῳ καὶ προοίμια κιθαρῳδικὰ ἐν 
ἔπεσιν. 

6 Cf. Wolf, Prolegomena ad Homerum §§ 106-7 (pp. 64-5, Bekker); Miiller, 
Greek Literature, 1, p. 206; Sittl, Geschichte der griech. Litt, 1, Ὁ. 122. 


CONNECTION BETWEEN MUSIC AND POETRY. 219 


there could certainly have been little trouble in combining with 
it the simpler music of earlier days. 

According to Timomachus, as quoted by Athenaeus,’ Stesander 
the Samian was the first citharoedus to present Homeric poetry 
at Delphi, his selections being taken from both the /Zad and the 
Odyssey. Here the innovation consists not in singing Homer 
to a lyre accompaniment, but in competing in the Pythian citha- 
roedic contests with Homeric verse, instead of poetry composed 
by the citharoedus himself. The original contest at Delphi, 
according to Pausanias, consisted in the singing of hymns to the 
god Apollo,’ and Eleuther is mentioned as the first who com- 
peted with a song which was not his ονη. It was a tradition 
recognized by Athenaeus‘ that Homer himself had given all his 
poetry a musical garb, and Chamaeleon is quoted as saying, in 
a work on Stesichorus, that not only the verses of Homer, but 
also those of Hesiod, Archilochus, Mimnermus and Phocylides 
were sung (μελῳδηθῆναι)." 

This important statement of Chamaeleon’s is in complete ac- 
cord with the inherent probabilities of the case. The poetry of 
the Greeks, as of all other nations,° was originally song-poetry, 
and the changes from sung to merely spoken poetry (ψιλὴ ποίησις) 
came not before, but long after Homer. It will not do to claim 
that Homeric verse was not sung, because it is not strophic.’ If 
a strophic arrangement were a necessary prerequisite for song, 
Homer’s verse would have been strophic, like the songs of the 
Edda or the Vedic hymns. But in the Ka/eva/a, or epic poetry 
of the Finns, there is an “absolute want, at all times, of strophic 
division ”’,* and yet the epic runes (called /audu ‘song’, in distinc- 
tion from /uwku ‘reading’, or magic rune which is merely recited) 
were actually sung to the accompaniment of the £anfe/e, or instru- 


1 Athenaeus, xiv, 638 a. 

2 Pausanias, x, 7. 2, doa ὕμνον ἐς τὸν θεόν. 

SUDA ἘΣ. 7:1 ΔΑ 

4 Athenaeus, xiv, 632 d, μεμελοποιηκέναι πᾶσαν ἑαυτοῦ τὴν ποίησιν. 

5 Tbid., xiv, 620 c. 

δ “The Japanese name for ‘ poem’ is allied to the word ‘to sing,’ and it is 
the opinion of the native literati that in olden days all poems were sung ”’ 
(Chamberlain, 7he Classical Poetry of the Fapanese—Boston, 1880, p. 22). 

1 Westphal, Griechische Rhythmik (Leipzig, 1885), pp. 211 ff. 

8 Comparetti, Zhe Traditional Poetry of the Finns, translated by Anderton 
(Longmans, 1898), p. 299. 


220 HY, RUSHTON FAIRCLOUGH. 


ment of five strings, corresponding to the Greek φόρμιγξ. “In 
Finland there is no difference in form between ἔπος and μέλος. 

In Greece, the continuous, unbroken hexameter verse is alone 
in evidence long before we meet any other. Not only so, but 
the earliest form of historical lyric is the same. The early lyric 
hymns were dactylic, as were also the nome, prosodia, paean, 
hymenaeus and threnus.” How strong a hold hexameter verse 
had in lyric poetry may be inferred from the fact that four 
hundred years after Terpander it was still used by Timotheus of 
Miletus, in his νόμοι κιθαρῳδικοί, which are defined as enn. 

The first deviation from epic verse-form is the elegiac couplet, 
which is derived from the hexametric series by a slight modifica- 
tion of every alternate line, so that a continuous metrical para- 
graph is broken into small sentence-groups. This couplet, which 
first comes into view in the seventh century B.C., proved a fitting 
vehicle for personal reflection of all kinds, and though so closely 
allied to the stately verse of the epic, was soon found to be 
applicable to the most heterogeneous subjects. Elegy (a word of 
Asiatic, non-Greek origin) is closely linked with the music of the 
flute, and in its earlier days, whether associated with a funeral 
or a banquet, a call to arms or sentimental moralizing, was 
undoubtedly sung. 

On this point the testimony of Plutarch is very explicit: ἐν ἀρχῇ 
yap ἐλεγεῖα μεμελοποιημένα of αὐλῳδοὶ ἦδον. Mimnermus, the elegiac 
poet, was a noted flute-player, and his name was associated with 
a particular tune for the flute, known as the κραδίας νόμος. How 
the elegies of Theognis were rendered may be inferred from the 
poet’s words on his beloved Cyrnus: 


καί σε σὺν αὐλίσκοισι λιγυφθόγγοις νέοι ἄνδρες 
εὐκόσμως ἐρατοὶ καλά τε καὶ λιγέα 

ἄσονται.5 
—they were sung to ἃ flute-accompaniment. As for Solon, we 
all remember the story of how he recovered Salamis for the 
Athenians. ‘‘ Mounting the herald’s stone, he sang through the 
elegy, which thus begins: ‘lam come myself as a herald from 
lovely Salamis,’ using song-embellished words, in lieu of simple 


1 Jbid., p. 31. 2 See Smyth, Greek Melic Poets, Introduction. 
3 Steph. Byz. Μίλητος. 
4 De Musica, 8. 5 [bid. δ Theognis, 241-3. 


CONNECTION BETWEEN MUSIC AND POETRY. 221 


speech.”' Solon’s language reminds one of the fact that Japanese 
envoys once sazg important speeches at foreign courts. After 
Solon’s day the children of Athens were taught to sing (ade) his 
poems,” and Chamaeleon’s statement, already quoted, that the 
works of certain of the non-melic poets were once sung, includes 
Mimnermus, Phocylides and Archilochus.* 

The poet last mentioned, Archilochus, is the reputed inventor 
of the iambic trimeter,‘ and since the iambic, as Aristotle clearly 
shows,’ is of all verse-forms the least removed from prose, it is 
here, if anywhere in Greek poetry, that we should expect the 
element of music to disappear. And yet, as we have seen, the 
verses of Archilochus, (including, no doubt, his iambics), were 
once sung, even as in later times they were presented in the 
theatre by rhapsodists, as were also the iambics of Simonides.* 

It is here, however, in iambic verse, that we may detect the 
first indications of a tendency to divorce music and poetry in 
Greece. Plutarch states that ‘““Archilochus, according to tradi- 
tion, first showed how iambics could be partly spoken’ to the 
stroke of the lyre, and partly sung (thereto); afterwards, the 
tragedians followed this custom; then Crexus, taking it from 
them, applied it to dithyrambs.” Thus it was Archilochus who 
first substituted speech for song in the least elevated type of 
poetry, though even here he still retained the instrumental music. 
This mode of delivery was adopted in tragedy, and in time made 
its way even into one form of melic poetry, the dithyramb. 

The innovations in metres and poetical delivery attributed to 
Archilochus are coincident with the great advance in the musical 
art with which the name of Terpander is associated. Archilochus 
and Terpander flourished in the first half of the seventh century 
B.C., and among the ancients it was a disputed question, which 
was the older of the two.* Be that as it may, Terpander and 


' Plutarch, Solon, 8: ἐν ὠδῇ διεξῆλθε τὴν ἐλεγείαν, ἧς ἐστιν ἀρχῆ " 
αὐτὸς κῆρυξ ἦλθον ad’ ἱμερτῆς Σαλαμῖνος, 
κόσμον ἐπέων ὠδῆν 7 ἀντ᾽ ἀγορῆς θέμενος. 
9 ῬΙδίο, Zzmaeus, 21 B. 
3 See p. 219 4 Plutarch, De Musica, 28. 
5 Aristotle, Ret. 3. 1.95; Poetics, 4. 14. 
6 Athenaeus, xiv, 620 Ὁ. 
7Plutarch, De Musica, 28; rt δὲ τῶν ἰαμβείων, τὸ τὰ μὲν λέγεσθαι παρὰ THY 
κροῦσιν, τὰ δ᾽ ἄδεσθαι, ᾿Αρχίλοχόν φασι καταδεῖξαι. 
8 Jbid., 4. —Glaucus of Rhegium supposed that Terpander was the earlier. 


222 HT, RUSHTON FAIRCLOUGH. 


Archilochus take part in the same forward movement in art. 
Terpander, the poet-musician, and Archilochus, the musician-poet, 
are the founders of that more musical and elaborate form of lyric, 
which is known as me/ic poetry. 

Besides being famous as a writer of iambic, trochaic, and elegiac 
verse, Archilochus was a love poet, who possessed the strong 
personal feeling and fiery passion characterizing the Lesbian 
singers, Alcaeus and Sappho. ‘He also composed dithyrambic 
and epinikian hymns, of which the latter at least were choral. 
These poetical forms belong to melic verse. Yet it is the same 
Archilochus who was apparently the first to weaken the hold of 
music upon poetry by allowing iambic verse to be sung only in 
part, and who invented the mode of verse-delivery known as 
mapaxatadoyj. In no case, however, did he give up an instru- 
mental accompaniment, for we are told that he determined the 
accompaniments appropriate to his various rhythms, and also to 
Ὁ his παρακαταλογή.ἢἦ 

The term παρακαταλογή has been the subject of much discussion. 
Westphal? supposes that it is a melodramatic delivery, mere 
declamation with instrumental accompaniment, while Gottfried 
Hermann and Christ take it to mean musical recitative. Certainly 
the term, taken literally, seems to imply plain or prose speech 
(καταλογάδην εἰρημένα) but it is evident from Zielinski’s study® of 
the question, that in actual practice it was as often recitative as 
melodrama. The instrumental accompaniment would constantly 
tempt the voice into musical utterance,‘ and recitative was cer- 
tainly employed very largely on the Greek stage.° 

Before Archilochus, the presentation of poetry had been con- 
trolled by the limitations of the musical art. Now that the latter 


1 Tbid., 28. 

2 Griechische Metrik, (Leipzig, 1887), pp. 53 ff. 

3 Zielinski, Die Gliederung der altattischen Komédie, (Leipzig, 1885), pp- 
288-314. 

4 «The general temptation is, to let it (the voice) glide, insensibly, into 
some note sounded by the orchestra; in which case, the effect produced 
resembles that of a Recitative.’? (From the article on Melodrama in 
A Dictionary of Music and Musicians,ed. by Sir George Grove,—Macmillan, 
1890.) 

5 Zielinski, Joc. c#t.; Haigh, Adtic Theatre, 2nd ed., p. 301; Barnett, 7he 
Greek Drama,p. 81, (Macmillan, 1899). Aristotle’s scanty treatment of 
vocal music in the Poetics applies only to μελοποιία, 


CONNECTION BETWEEN MUSIC AND POETRY. 223 


had been greatly enriched and developed, new poetical forms 
arose, and the musical delivery tended to become more elaborate 
and complex. This would be suitable enough for choral poetry 
with its dance accompaniment, or for monodic poetry of an 
impassioned tone, but would seem less appropriate for more 
reflective verse, or for poetry of a narrative or didactic class. 
Hence the non-melic verse-forms did not—indeed, could not, 
without material change in form—keep pace with the advance 
made in music, but continued to use the simpler and more modest 
art. Their musical delivery, as long as this was preserved, stood 
halfway between declamation and melic song, and must therefore 
have closely resembled recitative. On the other hand, if declama- 
tion, aided by an instrumental accompaniment, tended to pass 
into musical utterance, we can see how these two modes of pre- 
sentation would often meet on common ground, and yet be 
described in different terms, according to the writer’s point of 
view. 

In the rhapsodic delivery, then, we have a survival of the earlier 
musical art which existed before Terpander’s day,—a delivery 
practically identical with the presentation on the stage of that 
large portion of a drama which was intermediate between the 
merely spoken dialogue and the sung lyrics.’ Thus we can 
explain the frequent use of musical terms in connection with the 
arts of rhapsodist and actor, as in Plato’s account of Ion’s perfor- 
mances, or Lucian’s satiric description of the tragedian who “at 
times struts about, singing iambics, and—the most unseemly 
feature of all—putting his misfortunes into melody, and making 
himself responsible for voice alone.”’? Thus it is that in Athe- 
naeus* the three verbs μελῳδεῖν, ῥαψῳδεῖν and ὑποκρίνεσθαι are all 
found in one passage to describe the rhapsodist’s mode of 
delivery. The first two are used in reference to the verses of 
Archilochus, while the first and third are both applied to the 
hexameters of Homer and Hesiod. The three terms are not 
synonymous. The first, μελῳδεῖν, Shows that the music was the 
main feature of the performance, while ὑποκρίνεσθαι emphasizes the 
mimetic element.* The second verb, ῥαψῳδεῖν, used of the iambics 


1See Zielinski, Zac. cit. 

* Lucian, De Saltatione, 27: ἐνίοτε kai περιάδων τὰ ἰαμβεῖα, καὶ τὸ δὴ αἴσχιστον 
μελῳδῶν τὰς συμφορὰς κ. τ. A. 

3 Athenaeus, xiv, 620, 12. 

4 Thus dharata means actor in Sanskrit, sizger in Indian dialects. 


224 Hl, RUSHTON FAIRCLOUGH. 


of Simonides, the hexameters of Empedocles, and undefined 
verses of Archilochus, is the normal expression,’ and as the 
name itself indicates, implies szazszca/ utterance.? Doubtless the 
character of the performance differed according to time, place, 
individual tastes and the skill of the performer, but nothing is 
more certain than that, so long as poetry was made public in 
Greece by oral delivery,—and this covers almost the whole 
creative period of the literature,—vocal music was considered a 
natural and regular, if not essential, element of the presentation. 
The music involved was either plain or artistic, simple or 
elaborate, recitative-chant or set melody, but it was music, and 
in all cases, distinct from simple speech. If it was not μελῳδία, it 
was at least ῥαψῳδία, a term which is never used of the formal 
reading or recital of prose, even in public gatherings, and how- 
ever musical the delivery.® 

Terpander’s singing of Homer was doubtless an attempt to 
adapt the old song-material to the new music of his heptachord, 
but the adaptation could not be made with any permanent success. 
The non-strophic hexameters with their continuous flow (σχοινοτενῆ 
ἄσματα) could easily be rendered in simple chant-form, with slight 
modulations and few melodic phrases, but were unsuited to the 
variety of intervals and more definite melodies which resulted 
from the enlargement of the musical scale. For us, whose music 
is so elaborate, it is hard to find an analogous case in our own 
experience, but the difference for the Greeks between an Odys- 
sean episode, as sung by the early rhapsodists and as sung by 
Terpander, might be compared to the contrast for us between the 
Te Deum, as chanted to a simple Gregorian melody, and the 


1 This verb is also used of Xenophanes’ public rendition of his epic poem 
on nature (Diog. Laert. ix, 18). 

2In Lucian’s Symposium (431. 17) it is said that Histiaeus, the gram- 
marian, rhapsodized, when at a banquet he combined into a single song 
(307) verses from Pindar, Hesiod, and Anacreon, two of whom are distinctly 
melic poets. The term ῥαψῳδία is used of Chaeremon’s Centaur, a poem 
composed of metres of all kinds (Aristotle, Poez. 1. 9.) 

851 do not find it used even of the showy rhetoricians of late times, who 
sometimes possessed “ἐπε voice of a nightingale,” whose ‘‘ rhythms were 
more varied than those of the flute and the lyre,’’ and whom Lucian derided 
for turning their speeches into songs and melodies. (Philostr. Vzt. Soph. 
2. 10. 3; Lucian, Rhet. Praeceptor 19: ἢν δέ ποτὲ καὶ ἄσαι καιρὸς εἷναι δοκῇ, 
πάντα σοι ἀδέσθω καὶ μέλος γιγνέσθω.) 


CONNECTION BETWEEN MUSIC AND POETRY. 225 


same, as sung to an elaborate musical setting. Or again, since 
only our simplest poetry is ever married to music, we might 
fittingly compare a modern epic, composed in hexameters, viz. 
Klopstock’s Messias, as merely read, and the same, as sung to 
the setting of Kapellmeister Graun, who, in composing music 
for certain portions, tried to preserve ‘“‘das Mittel zwischen Reci- 
tativ und Arie, zum Versuch, wie die Griechen ihre Tragodien 
gesungen hatten.’’* Graun’s success delighted the poet’s friends, 
but we do not read that the experiment was ever repeated. 

Even the Terpandrian music was simple enough in comparison 
with that which succeeded it. Phrynis and Timotheus represented 
two important stages in its further development, so that in time 
the music of Terpander came to be regarded as quite out of date: 
τὴν yap ὀλιγοχορδίαν καὶ τὴν ἁπλότητα καὶ σεμνότητα THs μουσικῆς παντελῶς 
ἀρχαϊκὴν εἶναι συμβέβηκεν" And Aristoxenus of Tarentum (/lor. 
300 B. C.) tells us how he and a few friends, believing the music 
of his day to be thoroughly debased, would gather together to 
contemplate the beauty of the older art.* 

What the delivery of the Greek ἀοιδός or ῥαψῳδός was like may 
perhaps be learnt even to-day from certain countries where the 
minstrel’s art preserves its primitive character. Thus, in Finland 
“epic and lyric runes are sung to a musical phrase, which is the 
same for every line; only the key is varied every second line, 
or in the epic runes at every repetition of the line by the second 
voice. The phrase is sweet, simple, without emphasis, with as 
many notes as there are syllables.”* In certain parts of Russia 
epic songs are still sung, and collectors of these poems give us 
descriptions of the Russian rhapsodists, ‘“‘ with their fine voices 
and masterly diction,” which enable us to appreciate the character 
of theit-performance. ‘The airs to which the songs are sung or 
chanted, are very simple, consisting of but few tones, yet extremely 
difficult to note down. Each singer has an air of his own (per- 
haps two), to which he sings all the songs in his repertory, 
modifying it according to the subject and sentiment with the 
greatest skill. Rybnikof and Hilferding often dropped their pens 


1Hamel, K/opstock-Studien, zweites Heft, p. 113 (Werther, Rostock, 
1880). 
3 Plutarch, De Mus. 12. 8 Athenaeus, xiv, 632 a. 
4Comparetti, Zhe Traditional Poetry of the Finns, trans. by Anderton, 
Dizi 
15 


226 Hf. RUSHTON FAIRCLOUGH. 


and listened in amazement and admiration to the skill of these 
untutored minstrels.”’? 

But the most interesting and instructive parallel is furnished 
by the Kirghiz, of Central and Western Asia, a people peculiarly 
rich in various kinds of folk-poetry. The songs of the Kirghiz- 
Kazaks, a wide-spread nomad race, are mainly lyric; those of the 
Kara- or Black Kirghiz, whose home is in the mountainous 
country on the Russo-Chinese frontier, are exclusively epic. 
Epic song, indeed, has absorbed all other kinds, and this is so 
extensive that the common Volksgeist—the whole life, spirit and 
aspirations of the people—is reflected in it, asin amirror.? Dr. 
Radloff, who has collected many thousands of lines of this epic 
poetry, finds striking resemblances between such a remarkable 
body of verse and the great Homeric epics, and with good reason 
expresses the opinion that the poetry of the Kara-Kirghiz “ will 
contribute not a little to the solution of the yet unsolved ‘epic 
qguestion’”. The interesting information furnished by Radloff 
certainly throws a flood of light upon some dark places in early 
literary history, and the Homeric student, in particular, is under 
great obligations to this distinguished Russian investigator. 

The character of the Kirghiz singing is thus described. ‘In 
the delivery the singer always employs two melodies, one ren- 
dered in more rapid ¢empo, for the narrative of facts, and the 
other, for speeches, delivered in slow fempo as solemn recitative. 
This variation of melody I have had occasion to observe in all 
singers of any skill whatever. Otherwise, the melodies of the 
various singers are almost absolutely the same. In respect to 
clearness of pronunciation, the Kara-Kirghiz singers excel those 
of every other branch, their musical presentation interfering so 
little with an understanding of the words, that it is easy for even 
a foreigner to follow the song.’ ® 

The Kara-Kirghiz singers have all the inspiration of the 
Homeric ἀοιδοί. “I can sing any song whatever,” said one to 
Radloff, “for God has planted this gift in my heart. He puts the 
word upon my tongue, without my seeking it. I have learnt 


1 Hapgood, Zhe Epic Songs of Russia (Scribner’s, New York, 1886) p. τι. 

2 Proben der Volksiitteratur der nérdlichen tirkischen Stimme, gesammelt 
und zibersetzt von Dr. W. Radloff. v. Theil: Der Dialect der Kara-Kirgisen. 
(St. Petersburg, 1885). 

3 Jbid., p. xvi. 


CONNECTION BETWEEN MUSIC AND POETRY. 227 


none of my songs; each wells up from my heart.”* Only a 
genuine ἀοιδός, one who was himself full of the Volksgezst and had 
the native song-inspiration, could possibly, according to Radloff, 
combine the single songs into a unified epic, like the Jad and 
the Odyssey, for such an epic must be “ἃ compilation of that 
which is created and sung by the people,” and in spite of its being, 
in an important sense, the work of an individual, “will contain 
contradictions and repetitions, even as do the episodes sung by 
the people themselves, which have originated at different times 
and under different circumstances.”* Who can doubt that if 
such an architectonic poet should arise among the Kara-Kirghiz, 
he too, like Homer, would set forth his work in song ? 


LeLanp STANFORD JR. UNIVERSITY, H. RUSHTON FAIRCLOUGH. 


1 Joid., Ὁ. xvii. 2 Tbid., p. xxv. 


5 i 
Mth 


ΝῚ 
ον 


ΠΝ 


ἈΠ 





SOME STATISTICS ON THE ORDER OF WORDS 
IN GREEK, 


The free order of words in ancient Greek authors is often 
emphasized and has even caused investigators to doubt the 
possibility of finding general rules.’ At the present stage of our 
knowledge it is perhaps best to be satisfied with individual 
observations. However, some fundamental ideas seem sufficiently 
reliable to be used as guides in our search. 

Henri Weil has taught us that sentences should be regarded 
as having an initial notion and a goal. Hesays:’ “There is then 
a point of departure, an initial notion, which is equally present 
to him who speaks and to him who hears, which forms, as it were, 
the ground upon which the two intelligences meet; and another 
part of discourse which forms the statement (1l’€nonciation) 
properly so called.” He then discusses the following examples: 
Idem Romulus Romam condidit ; Hanc urbem condidit Romulus 
and Condidit Romam Romulus, and says: “ The point of departure, 
the rallying point of the interlocutors, is Romulus the first time, 
Rome the second, and the third time the idea of founding.” 
That is to say, these initial words were in each case familiar, and 
so were used as natural starting points, from which to proceed to 
the new idea, the goal of the sentence. In another passage 
he says:* “In general there is no syntactical part of the sentence, 
whatever may be its name, form, or extent, which may not have, 
in a given case, the initial notion of the thought.” 

On the other hand, Weil recognizes the fact that sometimes 
the goal comes first. This he calls the pathetic order.‘ 

This twofold division of the sentence, based on the order 
of words, had before been taught by Chr. Karl Reisig.® Re- 


1 ΚΖ. 33, 508- 

2 The Order of Words, transl. by C. W. Super, p. 29. 

us) Casi Do) 338 ©). σον Do 45. 

5 Chr. K. Reisig, Vorlesungen iiber lat. Sprachw., III. Bd. neu bearb. 
v. Schmalz u. Landgraf, Berlin 1888, p. 845 ff. 


230 HERMAN LOUIS EBELING. 


ferring to him Weil says in a note:’ “The two parts of the 
proposition which this scholar calls the ‘logical object and the 
predicate’ seem to me to coincide with what I have named the 
initial notion and the goal of the discourse.” 

Now, as regards emphasis, it seems evident that this should fall 
on the goal of the sentence, on the new idea to be conveyed, 
whereas the initial notion, though prominent by position, requires 
less stress of utterance when already familiar. Reisig says on this 
point: ‘“ Da nun in solchen Satzen oft die Hauptbetonung auf dem 
Pradikat liegen musz, als dem Spezielleren, so folgt dass es 
keineswegs notwendig ist, den betonten Begriff voranzustellen; 
z. b. Gallia omnis divisa est in partes tris, wo das tris als das 
Speziellere mehr zu betonen ist. Cic. p. Quinct. c. 12. Quis 
sic dissolutus fuisset, ut fuit 5. Naevius? Quum hominem nomino, 
satis mihi videor dicere, wo nomino betont ist.”” There are, how- 
ever, various possibilities by which the initial notion may gain 
in stress, while the goal may lose. 

When subject and predicate are accompanied by modifiers, it is 
often difficult to determine which word, or words, the writer 
intended to emphasize. An important principle that helps de- 
termine this, is the tendency to move a word forward in the 
sentence. B. Delbriick* says: “So lasst sich als ein durch alle 
indogermanischen Sprachen durchgehendes Grundgesetz der 
okkasionellen Wortstellung das aufstellen, dass das hervorzu- 
hebende Wort nach vorne rickt.” 

To illustrate this principle, I present the results of an examina- 
tion of the simple infinitive in Plato’s Protagoras. It is easy 
to see that the infinitive regularly follows the word on which 
it depends, whether it be as subject, object or in other relations. 

Excluding the occurrences of the articular infinitive and those 
of a fixed order, such as ὥστε, πρίν, etc., with the infinitive, I have 
counted 635 examples, of which 593 follow the word on which 
they depend and only 42 precede. That is to say, 93 per cent 
follow in the regular order, which is the reverse of the order in 
Sanskrit in the case of the auxiliary verb and infinitive. 

An examination of the 42 cases that precede will show that 
these infinitives are more or less emphatic, sometimes presenting 


AR δος αὐ. *Grundr. Vergl, Gram., V, p. 38 ff. 
8 Delbriick, 1. c., p. 63 ff. 


THE ORDER OF WORDS IN GREEK. 231 


the initial notion of the sentence. Take for examples the passages 
340 d, 343 d, 344 a, 344 Ὁ, 344 6, where Socrates makes points 
on γενέσθαι and εἶναι, or 337 b-c, where Prodicus explains the 
difference between εὐδοκιμεῖν and ἐπαινεῖσθαι, εὐφραίνεσθαι and ἥδεσθαι. 

Sometimes it is not the infinitive alone, but the infinitive joined 
to its adverb, object, or predicate, that is made prominent, the 
latter taking first place, as 313 a, τὸ σῶμα ἐπιτρέπειν, 337 a, κοινῇ μὲν 
γὰρ ἀκοῦσαι, 343 d, ὅτι ἄνδρα ἀγαθὸν γενέσθαι χαλεπόν, Or following, 
as in 211 6, τελεῖν τοῦτο τὸ ἀργύριον. The last example shows that the 
infinitive may take the prominent first place in order to serve 
as a connecting link with the previous sentence, the chief emphasis 
coming later on the postponed interrogative rin dvr. 

In 325 c, we find οἴεσθαί ye χρή which seems to be the usual 
order for this phrase. It occurs again in Crito 53 d, 54 Ὁ, Phaedo 
68 b, Gorg. 522 a. 

More complex than the arrangement of the infinitive and its 
governing word is that of the copulative verbs, mainly εἶναι and 
γίγνεσθαι, with their predicate adjectives or nouns. In the Gorgias 
I counted 604 cases of predicate before verb, and 84 cases of 
predicate after verb; in the Protagoras 381 of the former and 
73 of the latter. That is to say, in the Gorgias 88 per cent of the 
predicates precede the copula and in the Protagoras 84 per cent. 
In his article on the Greek verbals in -reo Professor C. E. 
Bishop’ presents statistics for the relative position of verbal and 
copula, which agree closely with the above results. For Plato his 
figures show over 83 per cent of the order, verbal followed by 
copula, and nearly the same (84 per cent), when his detailed 
statements for the Orators, Xenophon, Thucydides and Herodotus 
are included. 

As tegards the effect of the order by which the predicate 
follows its copula, Professor Charles Short in his valuable essay, 
prefixed to Yonge’s English-Greek Lexicon,’ makes this ques- 
tionable statement: ‘“‘If the word in the predicate be somewhat 
emphatic, or have an adjunct following, it may stand after the 
verb.” The fact is that, while the predicate may be emphatic 
when it follows the copula, it is equally or even more emphatic 
when it precedes. The explanation is that the copula with its 
predicate usually constitutes the goal of the sentence and as such 
is emphasized. 


πλ  ἢ. ΘΗ: Χ Χ De 252 th. 3 Chap. Χ. 


232 HERMAN LOUIS EBELING. 


The change from the regular order should rather be explained 
with reference to the copula, which is put before the predicate 
in order to receive the emphasis: Protag. 343 d, ὅτι οὔκ, ἀλλὰ 
γενέσθαι μὲν χαλεπὸν ἄνδρα ἀγαθόν ἐστιν, 344 a, οὐ yap εἶναι ἀλλὰ γενέσθαι 
μέν ἐστιν ἄνδρα ἀγαθὸν . .. χαλεπὸν ἀλαθέως. (The emphasis clearly 
rests on the infinitives and not on the predicate ἄνδρα ἀγαθόν.) 
Protag. 345 Ὁ, ὁ δὲ κακὸς ἀνὴρ οὐκ ἄν more γένοιτο κακός" ἔστι yap ἀεί. 
325 Ὁ, ἐφ᾽ οἷς οὐκ ἔστι θάνατος ἡ ζημία. (Here punishment with death 
is already before the mind; the emphasis lies on the negative 
statement.) However, emphasis on the copula may easily and 
naturally be joined with emphasis on the predicate: Protag. 337 a, 
ἔστι yap ov ταὐτόν. 316 d, ἐγὼ δὲ τὴν σοφιστικὴν τέχνην φημὶ μὲν εἶναι 
παλαιάν. 2551 6, dav... τὸ αὐτὸ φαίνηται ἡδύ τε καὶ ἀγαθόν. Gorg. 463 Ὁ, 
ὃ δοκεῖ μὲν εἶναι τέχνη, ὡς δὲ ὁ ἐμὸς λόγος, οὐκ ἔστιν τέχνη, ἀλλ᾽ ἐμπειρία 
καὶ τριβή. 

Then again neither copula nor predicate are emphatic, as 
in Gorgias 463 a, ὃ δ᾽ ἐγὼ καλῶ τὴν ῥητορικήν, πράγματός τινός ἐστι 
μόριον οὐδενὸς τῶν καλῶν. Protag. 321 Ὁ, ἔστι δ᾽ οἷς ἔδωκεν εἶναι τροφὴν 
ζῴων ἄλλων βοράν. 

If we turn to examples of the regular order, it will be easy 
to find emphatic predicates: Protag. 350 Ὁ, οὐκοῦν of θαρραλέοι οὗτοι 
καὶ ἀνδρεῖοί εἰσιν; 315 a, τούτων δὲ. .. τὸ μὲν πολὺ ξένοι ἐφαίνοντο. 
This is regularly the case, as is recognized by Professor Short,’ 
when the predicate is placed at the head of the sentence, either 
closely followed by the copula or separated from it; Protag. 
325 Ὁ σκέψαι ὡς θαυμάσιοι γίγνονται οἱ ἀγαθοί, 325 ἃ διαμάχονται, ὅπως ws 
βέλτιστος ἔσται 6 παῖς, 331 a σὸς οὗτος ὁ λόγος ἐστί, 315 6 οὐκ ἂν θαυμάζοιμι, 
εἰ παιδικὰ Παυσανίου τυγχάνει dv, 315 6 πάσσοφος γάρ μοι δοκεῖ ἁνὴρ εἶναι 
καὶ θεῖος, 316 d οὐ γὰρ σμικροὶ περὶ αὐτὰ φθόνοι τε γίγνονται. 

But the arrangement, predicate copula, may also stand without 
emphasis. Protag. 312 6, ri δή ἐστι τοῦτο, περὶ οὗ αὐτός τε ἐπιστήμων 
ἐστὶν 6 σοφιστὴς καὶ τὸν μαθητὴν ποιεῖ; here ἐπιστήμων ἐστὶν repeats the 
ἐπίσταται οἵ the preceding sentence; 309 d σοφωτάτῳ μὲν οὖν δήπου 
τῶν γε νῦν, εἴ σοι δοκεῖ σοφώτατος εἶναι ἸΤρωταγόρας, 327 Ὁ οἴει ἄν τι, ἔφη, 
μᾶλλον, ὦ Σ., τῶν ἀγαθῶν αὐλητῶν ἀγαθοὺς αὐλητὰς τοὺς υἱεῖς γίγνεσθαι ἢ τῶν 
φαύλων. - 

The regularity with which the predicate precedes the copula 
determines to a considerable extent the order of these parts of 


ΤΠ een ks 


THE ORDER OF WORDS IN GREEK. 233 


speech in connection with the subject. The following table 
presents a view of all the cases of copula and predicate adjective 
or noun in the Protagoras, both with and without subject. I have 
indicated where words intervene between predicate and verb by 
means of (W) and where particles, such as δέ, γάρ, ἄν, alone inter- 
vene by (part.) 

PREDICATE PRECEDING COPULA. 


Pred. Verb. Subj. = 43 Pred. (W.) Vb. Subj. 9 Pred. (part.) Vb. Subj. =10 Total 
Subj. Pred. Vb. =84 Subj. Pred.(W.) Vb. =10 Subj, Pred. (part.)Vb.=10 “ 


σι 
S 


8 
= 


Pred. Subj. Vb. =20 re Ne LI.) 
Pred, Verb =154 Pred. (W.) Vb. =12 Pred. (part.) Vb. ΞΞΞ τὸ ter 
οἷός τε Vb, ΞΞΞ-  χὸ a a Ὁ 

381 

PREDICATE FOLLOWING COPULA. 

Verb Pred. Subj. = 3 Vb. (W.) Pred. Subj. = 1 Vb. (part.) Pred. Subj.= 1 Total = 5 
Verb Subj. Pred. = 8 Vb. Subj. (W.) Pred. = αὶ St an 
Subj. Vb. Pred. =24 Subj. Vb. (W.) Pred. = 8 << =32 
Verb Pred. = 26) Vb. (W.)) ered: = 8 Vb. (part.) Pred. = 4 i123 


It will be noticed that although the copula frequently stands 
between the subject and predicate that this is not the most usual 
arrangement in the Protagoras.' The verb follows in 124 cases 
and precedes in 18, whereas it stands between the subject and 
the predicate 94 times in all. 

Let us now turn to an examination of the order of subject, 
object and verb. 

Professor G. Kaibel? writes of the six possible arrangements 
as follows: “Allgemein giltige Gesetze fiir die Wortfolge giebt es 
im Griechischen kaum: ein so einfacher Satz wie οἱ δ᾽ ᾿Αθηναῖοι 
τοὺς Λακεδαιμονίους ἐνίκησαν laszt eine sechsfache Ordnung der drei 
Begriffe zu, eine jede wird unter dem Drucke des Gedanken- 
ganges die einzig richtige sein konnen. Der Gedanke ordnet die 
Worte, nicht ein Sprachgesetz, und je klarer der Gedanke desto 
klarer und einfacher nicht nur der Ausdruck sondern auch die 
Wortstellung.” Professor Kaibel’s insistence on the absolute 
freedom of arrangement of subject, object and verb raises the 
question whether or not there were conditions of thought or 
language that favored one order rather than another. 

Professor Delbriick* sums up his conclusions on the order of 


1Cf, Transactions Am. Ph. A., vol. XXI, p. 17. 
2 Stil u. Text der ᾿Αθηναίων πολιτεία des Aristoteles, Berlin, 1893, p. 96. 
3 Grundr. Vergl. Gram., V, p. 110 ff. 


234 HERMAN LOUIS EBELING. 


words in the Indo-European languages in part as follows: “Die 
Stellung der Wé6rter war entweder habituell oder okkasionell. 
Beide Stellungsarten sind beherrscht von dem Grundgesetz, dass 
das wichtigere Wort seinen Platz weiter vorn im Satze erhalt. 
Ausserdem kann das rhythmische Gefihl, ohne Riicksicht auf den 
Sinn, die Stellung bestimmen. Das habituell wichtigste Wort war 
das Subjekt, dann folgten die iibrigen nicht-verbalen Bestand- 
theile des Satzes, den Schluss machte das Verbum finitum.”’ 

In Greek this seems to be true of the subject, but less true 
of the verb. In referring to the verb, he says (p. 65): ‘“‘ Fiir das 
Griechische sind umfassende Sammlungen nicht vorhanden. Man 
hat im Allgemeinen den Eindruck, dass die Stellung frei ist.” 
Again he says (p. 111): “Unter den im Satze vorkommenden 
Kasus hatte der Akkusativ die besondere Neigung, unmittelbar 
vor das Verbum zu treten.” This also is true of Greek. Accor- 
dingly we find that the most usual order is: subject, object, verb, 
not subject, verb, object, as we might be led to believe from the 
following statement:' ‘When the finite verb has its subject 
expressed and a simple object, very commonly the subject stands 
first, then the verb, and the object last,. . . but if the object be 
emphatic it often stands before the verb.” The fact is that both 
arrangements are very common, as we shall see; though, in Xen- 
ophon’s Anabasis, which formed the basis of Professor Short’s 
work, the figures appear to be nearly equal. The following 
table shows the number of occurrences of the above mentioned 


orders in the books named at the head of each column. 
Isocrates 


Anabasis I. Protagoras. Gorgias. I Il U1 1X 
Subj. obj. vb..... 45 62 74 Gps 
Subj. vb. obj. .... 42 24 32 17 


The predominance of the order S. O. V. is marked in Plato 
and Isocrates. The difference in the style of the Anabasis, 
indicated by the equality of the two arrangements will appear 
even greater if the above table is subjected to some analysis. 
In the next table, I have noted subject and object as noun or 
pronoun, including as nouns, adjectives and participles so used, 
and as pronouns, the pronominal adjectives πολύς and πᾶς. I have 
counted only sentences with simple objects and have included 
relatives. 


1 Preface Yonge’s Eng.-Gk. Lex., Chap. VII. 


THE ORDER OF WORDS IN GREEK. 235 


Isocrates 


Anabasis I. Protagoras, Gorgias. II ΠΙΙΧ 
S. oO. Nu 
Ϊ Bron.eebron. Verb, co. 17 30 45 9 
Ss: Vv. O. 
Pron. Verb Pron, .... 3 5 9 Ξ 
Ss. oO. Ve 
pee moun Verb jonas 14 15 12 14 
5. Vv. oO. 
Noun Verb Noun .... 26 4 5 I 
9. @. V. 
Pron, Noun Verb .... 6 9 16 46 
5. Vie O. 
Pron. Verb Noun .... 4 10 13 13 
Ss. oO. Vi 
Noun Pron. Verb .... 8 8 I 4 
5. Wis O. 
Noun Verb) “Pron, cee 9 5 5 Ι 


Here it will be observed that, where subject and object are 
both pronouns, the order S. O. V. is about five times as frequent 
as the order 5. V. O. and that the Anabasis shows the same ratio. 
But when we take the cases where subject and object are both 
indicated as nouns, we find that, whereas in Plato the order 
S.O.V. is somewhat more than three times as frequent as the 
order S. V. O. and the former occurs 14 times in Isocrates with 
only one instance of the latter, in the Anabasis, on the other hand, 
the relations are reversed, the order S. V. O. occurring 26 times 
with only 14 of the other. In the rest of the table I see nothing 
noteworthy, except it be the frequency of the order S. O. V. in 
Isocrates, in the third division. 

I now present a complete view of all the cases of the six possible 
arrangements that I have counted in the above mentioned books. 


5.ΟΟΥ͂. ΘΟ: 0. S.V. OL IS3 1 iWessOhtive. Oise 
Anabasis 1... . 45 (relativeso) 42 (relat. 1) 21 (relat.g) «τ (relat. 2) 9 12 
Protagoras..... 62 ( τ TA) y eat (eins 1G) SON, 59 ra) 1 ONC) δ. 2) 13 το 
Gorgias........ 74 ( Seo) πο τ 5} τα me se) eS ( cy τε 8 14 
MEP ea a eTe DEC a 30 2. ᾿ 


We see that the totals of the first two columns, in which the 
subject comes first, far outnumber the rest. The third column 
shows the frequency of the order O. S. V. The fact that in 62 
of the 140 instances of this order the object is a relative pronoun, 
is an indication of the main reason for placing the object first, 
namely, to make connection with the preceding sentence. This 
is partially recognized by Professor Short,’ when he says: “ The 


ΟΕ 1: 


236 HERMAN LOUIS EBELING. 


object is regularly put first if it be a demonstrative pronoun of 
- previous reference, or a word modified by such pronoun.” But 
his leading statement for the order in which the object precedes is: 
“When the object is very emphatic, it is put first, the subject and 
verb following, the more emphatic commonly last.” This state- 
ment can hardly be said to characterize properly that class of 
sentences in which the object precedes. In the first book of the 
Anabasis there are, in all, 21 cases of the orderO.S.V. Of these, 
9 have relative objects, 7 demonstrative objects of previous 
reference, and the remaining five cases are: ἐμοὶ yap 1, 3, 3, 
στρουθὸν δὲ 1, 5, 3, στράτευμα I, 5, 6, μετὰ ταῦτα οὔτε ζῶντα ’Opdvrav 
οὔτε τεθνηκότα 1, 6, 11, καὶ ἧς ὑμᾶς I, 7, 3 

An examination of these five passages will show that the ὑμᾶς 
in the last example, though prominent, is not very emphatic and 
that in the other four the objects are all more or less connective 
and familiar and so can also not be called very emphatic. Take, 
for example, the case of στρουθὸν 5é Xenophon mentions (1, 5, 2) 
the various animals that were found in the Syrian desert and says: 
ταῦτα δὲ τὰ θηρία οἱ ἱππεῖς évior’ ἐδίωκον. Then he speaks of each kind 
and begins καὶ of μὲν ὄνοι, ἐπεί τις διώκοι, προδραμόντες ἕστασαν" kK. τ. A. 
Next he refers to the ostrich and begins: στρουθὸν δὲ οὐδεὶς ἔλαβεν " 
x. τ᾿ λ., and in a similar way to the bustards, ras δὲ ὠτίδας ἄν τις ταχὺ 
ἀνιστῇ ἔστι λαμβάνειν. These accusatives are, to my mind, no more 
emphatic than the nominative οἱ ὄνοι, presenting like it only the 
initial notion. 

In the same way I find in Plato’s Gorgias that, of the 55 exam- 
ples of the order O.S. V., 35 have relatives as objects, and the rest 
are mainly connective, and, while prominent, cannot be regarded 
as especially emphatic. Thus in 512 e, τὴν εἱμαρμένην οὐδ᾽ ἂν εἷς 
ἐκφύγοι, the idea of death being already before the mind, τὴν εἱμαρ- 
μένην is without especial emphasis, which clearly falls on the οὐδ᾽ 
ἂν els. 

Similar results appear in the study of the Protagoras and the 
four orations of Isocrates. Accordingly, I consider that the usual 
reason for beginning with the object is, that the object in such 
sentences forms an easy connection with what has gone before 
or at least presents a natural initial notion for its sentence, and 
I am of the opinion that the stress which falls upon it, while 
variable in force, is usually less than that which we place on the 
goal of the sentence. 


THE ORDER OF WORDS IN GREEK. 237 


Professor Short, in the passage cited above, states that the 
subject and verb following the object are placed in such a way 
that the more emphatic commonly comes last. This cannot be 
true, if stated as a general rule, for when the verb comes last 
it is more likely that the subject receives the greater emphasis. 
If, however, the verb precedes, it may unite closely with the 
object, thus leaving the subject to stand out prominently as the 
goal. But in this case, too, the subject may be the indefinite τις 
and the stress fall on the preceding verb. 

In regard to the last two methods of arrangement in which the 
verb precedes, Professor Short says: ‘‘ When the verb is emphatic 
it often stands first, the subject and object following, the more 
emphatic last.” In such cases the verb is put first largely for the 
sake of the initial notion and indeed chiefly to connect with what 
has gone before. The object or subject that follows is usually 
joined closely to the verb, thus allowing the third member to 
stand last and receive the emphasis that falls on the goal. Some- 
times, however, in the order V. 5. O. the subject is contrasted 
with the object. 

In discussing the relative importance of the various positions 
we must of course bear in mind that some other word than sub- 
ject, object or verb may receive the chief emphasis. One example 
may suffice. In οὐκ ἀμαχεὶ ταῦτ᾽ ἐγὼ λήψομαι, Anab. 1. 7. 9, it is 
evident that the chief stress falls on ἀμαχεί. 

In order to form a clearer conception of the arrangement of 
the verb and object on the one hand and the verb and subject 
on the other we must study them separately. In the Protagoras 
I have counted 601 cases where the object precedes the verb, 
relatives and interrogatives being excepted; and 363 cases where 
the object follows. These figures show that the statement?: ‘The 
simple object commonly follows the verb; but precedes if em- 
phatic,” cannot be correct. I should prefer to say that the ten- 
dency was to give the object the prominent position before the 
verb, even when not emphatic, but that frequently the object was 
made to follow. The following table presents a partial analysis 
of the above figures, showing in which words a considerable part 
of the difference in arrangement lies. 


1 Pref. Yonge’s Eng.-Gk. Lex., Chap. VII, iii. 


238 HERMAN LOUIS EBELING. 


OBJECT PRECEDING VERB, OBJECT FOLLOWING VERB. 

GUT OC RRC ats ΜΔ Feicickartta ss DIO! Οὐ ΠΟ HA eae ene Σ Sf) aaa TY 0) 
PGI UTC) sia! d,s elev elses, οὐ οῖν ἜΤ tel tye τὸ τοιοῦτο ae ον δ αὐς ciel bie ‘ei uel.» I 
RIEEELOG Hel ἐμ κί cc ha pohsies 3 ayereiarsrmretetess ΠΡ ΤῊ UNE KEIDOG ΛΌΆΝΝ ΒΡῚ Δ ὙΝ διι SrateUhelabere dveve a 7 
GOP ὁ ἡ δον ὧν eit εἶν κὸν ooo ee θέν, ἅ0 008, yas cca aig Vat erp een a a a ἢ 2 
"DERN SSO EIAIAE Saini δ εἴς μὰν βιεῖν ete 2417 ἸΔΉΤΟ δ, eet ῬΑ ρα ΟΡ ΘΑΛΗ͂Ν 42 
μοι ἔδοξε ....- ae yen ΡΣ νον ate 24. 7 GOOGLE LOL ΤΡ εν 17 
Sbst. movetodar...-.... Ἐκ ἶνας ΚΞ PhO 

GAIT λεγε. τὸν τ πρ τ τ τ τ 16 λλέγει τὴν ἀλήϑειαν........ ἐγοῖε κι (id 
*1 οἱ τὰ μαϑήματα περιάγοντες... τὸ τὸν μὴ προσποιούμενον δικαιοσύνην. 1 
* οὐδένα... βελτίω ἐποίησαν ... 8 ποιήσει καὶ σὲ σοφόν. ......«--- 2 
* σαυτὸν... σοφιστὴν παρέχων... 13 * ποιεῖν ἄνδρας ἀγαϑοὺς πολίτας... 4 
* μεῖζον τὸ νόσημα ποιῶ ....- ...«- 5 

* ἄλλους οἷός τ᾽ εἶ ποιεῖν ἀγαϑούς.. 4 * ἀσαφῆ ἐποίει τὰ λεγόμενα ...... 9 


The prevalence of the order, object verb, in the case of οὗτος 
and τοιοῦτος is largely due to the desire to bring the pronoun into 
close connection with the word or words to which it refers and 
even when it follows, a similar reason can often be detected, such 
as a desire to bring the demonstrative close to a following relative 
or ὅτι clause. At the same time οὗτος before the verb may be 
emphatic while an unemphatic οὗτος of previous reference may 
follow. The preference of the oblique forms of αὐτός for the 
position after the verb is probably due to their enclitic nature.’ 

Turning now to the arrangement of the subject and verb, I find, 
omitting relatives, that in the Protagoras 65 per cent and in the 
first book of the Anabasis 66 per cent of the subjects precede 
their verbs. 

The following table gives some idea of the distribution. 


Subject verb. Protag. Anab. Verb subject. Protag. Anab. 
EVO Mate cel ἐπ ΣΕ: ἐλ 7S 14 ἥν VEY Oa Kewis Saltese . 44 (vb. ἐγών) 
YS me de Ma Ἀ ἂν ἘΠ epee: setae Har! Στ 31 o. 

ἡγοῦμαι éyO..... sihateiate Pic 
OC EYGUEL. «0 ds 0 Re ee its hte DOKGIEN O's ΉΤΟ erste 
OC EY OOTP wereislaicna cree ent nae ἀν: εἶπον οὖν ἐγώ....... Rot ear ae 45 
ἔγωγε verb ..... deena tO I verb ἔγωγε .....- vésue LO ae 
ov Hey WS ovyerafate eters slap 29 I ἔφησϑα οὖν Ob.......--- Ι 
σὺ (imperative) ....... 4 ἐν 
Oo OV OYE wc... sista has beigveob .. 2 AU eee 


1The examples marked with * are typical. 
2 Kiihner-Blass, Gk. Gr., I, p. 339, A. 1. 


THE ORDER OF WORDS IN GREEK. 


Subject verb, 


ἐγώ Te καὶ ov vb. ...... 4 
ἡμεῖς 
ὑμεῖς MET Ge sfaleisisicisinn: 18 
αὐτὸς (imperative) .... 2 
ΟΣ ὙΘΥΓΝΣ δ νον els ἐς 17 
ἀν ΠΤ VETD). Ὁ... ον οἷο 50 I 
οὗτοι αὐτοὶ verb........ 3 
οὗτος απο - 27 
ἐκεῖνος SEIT wietos cat evoie 2 
ὅδε SURO ORCC I 
ON CL) VR ee ee 
Καθ ΠΟ ἘΦ EY) νου ἐς : 4 
τί (interrog.) verb..... 10 


τίς (int. noun). .... 2 
τι (indef.) SOM ie olathe 





τις ἄλλος ΓΗ 
οἱ ἄλλοι SO Lay scene 
πάντες COR ἀρ ο γ ῷ 0 9! 
ὀλίγοι “ Ae ey ΉΝΣ 
πολλοὶ ΚΕΝ RO 
οὐδεὶς ἘΠ CANE ὙΠ Ὲ 
ἕκαστος Le ei 2 
ἔν μόνον om 4 I 
ὁτιοῦν Ce ee I 
article participle verb. 8 
τοῦτόν Te «= Werb..... 2 
sbst. ΚΟΥ De ctafatst nO: 
Several sbys, 61) cosy) IO 
GUPOTEPOL .oeceecceees ve 

Total. Protag. 


Subj. verb= 535 


Protag. Anab. 





Anab. I. 
335 


Verb subject. 
vb. ἐγώ τε kai σύ ..... ene 
ὥς φαμεν ἐγώ te καὶ Π... 1 
WEL; HUES ak we dtsine soto i) E 


verb αὐτός..... ΤΥ 
vb, αὐτὸς αὑτῷ sbst.... 


3 
3 
“1 τὰ aura peyiSy .... 
AUTO TANTO cc smata tS 
ie) 
I 


ECM OUTOG ΙΑ ΝΑ ΩΝ αὐ Δ τ 
CO BRECON τ νῶν ὁ ΟΥΑΙ ΣΝ 
vb. 76 μὲν sbst...... 4 
TROT OCU He ἘΠ ΣῈ eres 8 
$8) Fe C(MPEECORS is ais’ us I 
WD> 770 (inideb } ys. «a « 13 
vb. ἄλλοι GAdwe ......6 
SU TRADTEDS ati eeeioine eee 
ὙΠ: OAN OU a τελεῖν ἐὰν κα slate I 
66)" QUOELC  scters sie eiaiete ears 
SO VEKQOTOG © ci sia cis erate ore 3 
VPs aes) PALUs vis elelereie( se 3 
66 TOLOUTOV TL once I 
ΡΘΕ )joletnsvelets Salen, ADE 


“ several subjs. .... 18 
ἘΚ ΤΠ νος 
MS ΤΟ ΣΤ PUN ales ον Seka ΝΠ Nee 


eeeeee 2 





Total. 
Verb subj. — 284 


Protag. 


Protag. 


239 


Anab. 





Anab. I. 


169 


It may be noted especially that the personal pronouns regu- 
larly precede the verb. The chief exceptions are in the phrases 
ἔφην ἐγώ 32 times, ἦν δ᾽ ἐγώ 44 times, which occur invariably in this 


order like the 8 cases of ἢ δ᾽ 


¢ 
os. 


Plato’s fondness for the phrase 


ἔφην ἐγώ is Shown in 317 c, where the sentence begins with καὶ ἐγώ, 


and after a long parenthesis continues with τί οὖν, ἔφην ἐγώ. 


He 


might have used simply ἔφην as the sentence began with ἐγώ, 
especially as the solitary ἔφην occurs 8 times in the Protagoras. 
Liddell and Scott (5. v. φημί) note that “‘in repeating dialogues, 


240 HERMAN LOUIS EBELING. 


the verb commonly goes before its subject.” Besides the cases 
cited I counted φαίην ἂν ἔγωγε 2 times and 8 examples of φάναι with 
a proper noun as subject. Of the opposite order with zoun-sub- 
jects preceding I found only 6 examples of φάναι, in all of which 
the subject has been made prominent, as in 317 e, ἐπεὶ δὲ πάντες 
συνεκαθεζόμεθα, ὁ Ipwraydpas, Νῦν δὴ ἂν, ἔφη, λέγοις, © 2. Only one of 
them, 317 d, ὁ Καλλίας ἔφη, is a parenthetic phrase and here the 
new subject must be made prominent. 

With ὡς and the verb φάναι also, the subject preferably follows: 
ὥσπερ ἔφη “Opnpos, 340 a; ὥς φησι Πρόδικος ὅδε, 340 C; ὡς φὴς ov, 361 d; 
ὥς φαμεν ἐγώ re καὶ Πρ., 354 a; ὡς φὴς σὺ καὶ ἐγὼ πείθομαι, 316 a (the 
chiasmus here is easily made). Of the opposite order I have 
found only ὡς ἐγώ φημι, 338 ἃ, and ὡς σὺ φής᾽ εἰκότως, ὡς ἐγώ φημι, 
2226. Here the pronouns are decidedly emphatic. 

With ὡς and other verbs, however, the order, subject-verb, 
seems the usual one; and as we might expect, the pronouns are 
here frequently used without especial emphasis, as in the 8 exam- 
ples of ὡς ἐγῴμαι. The rest of the examples are: ὡς ἐγὼ ἤκουσα, 
311 8; ὥσπερ σὺ λέγεις, 323 ἃ; 344 Ο; 351 ©; 352 C; ὡς σὺ ἐρωτᾷς, 
251 d; ὥσπερ Πρωταγόρας ἐπεχείρει λέγειν, 361 Ὁ ; ὡς αὐτὸ δηλοῖ, 329 b; 
ὥσπερ σὺ ὑπολαμβάνεις, 341 a; ὡς od σπεύδεις, 361 Ὁ. I have only 
one example of the reverse order to oppose to the above citations, 
οὐχ ws οἴεται Ilpwraycpas, 340 C. 

That the personal pronouns are not always emphatic is recog- 
nized by Professor Gildersleeve,, who calls attention to the 
frequency of ¢yéda and ἐγῷμαι. I think it is evident that the ἐγώ 
is unemphatic in the phrases ἦν δ᾽ ἐγώ and ἔφην ἐγώ and in many 
other cases it seems better to read the pronouns without a special 
stress as in Protag. 360 d, τί. . . οὔτε σὺ φὴς ἃ ἐρωτῶ οὔτε ἀπόφῃς; 


HAVERFORD COLLEGE, Pa. HERMAN Louis EBELING. 


1 Syntax of Classical Greek, § 69. 


THE ATHENS OF ARISTOPHANES. 


That Aristophanes has been a frequent source of appeal to 
students of Athenian topography is evident from a casual inspec- 
tion of Milchhoefer’s “Schrifiqguellen zur Topographie von 
Athen,” published with Curtius’ “ Stadigeschichte von Athen” 
(Berlin, 1891), and of Miss Harrison’s “ IZythology and Monuments 
of Ancient Athens” (London, 1890). But to the topographer 
Aristophanes usually yields barren results; for the purpose of 
comedy did not call for any precise localizing of the places and 
objects he mentions—the chief aim of topographic study. Nor, 
on the other hand, do the local allusions in Aristophanes prove 
very suggestive to the student of literature, unless he brings to 
the perusal of the author the topographic knowledge acquired 
from a personal acquaintance with “the fruitful land of Pallas,” 
and from a study of the sites and monuments of land and city 
as described in the ξέρα of Pausanias and in other sources. 
But, if we presuppose the knowledge thus acquired, references to 
places and monuments in the extant comedies and fragments of 
Aristophanes fill in most richly the wavering outlines, and give 
to our conception of Ancient Athens the touch of life. Hence, it 
is the object of this paper, not to consider what contributions 
Aristophanes may have made to Athenian topography, but to 
define the scope and nature of his allusions to places and monu- 
ments on Attic soil, and to sketch the Aristophanic picture of 
Athens and Attika. 

Attika is to Aristophanes ‘the illustrious soil of the august 
Pallas,’* ‘the much loved country of Kekrops.’? Its inhabitants 
are alone rightly of noble birth and autochthonous.* It is the 
land of brave men, abounding in temples and statues and votive 
offerings to the celestial gods; in holy mystic rites and sacred 
processions and well-crowned sacrifices; and with the approach 
of spring is here celebrated the Dionysiac festival, when are 
heard the songs of melodious choruses and the loud-sounding 


1 ΠΕ 5.73. 2N 2090 ff. 3 = 1076. 
16 


242 MITCHELL CARROLL. 


music of flutes.’ It is a sea-encircled land with all the diversity 
of climate and scenery, of fauna and flora, that mountain and 
plain and seacoast and islands produce.” It experiences the 
snows of winter, as well as the gentle breezes of spring. Hares 
and wild game abound in the woods, sheep and goats are tended 
in the pastures, and the bees feeding on the wild thyme of the 
mountain slope produce “the Attic honey.”* The country dis- 
tricts delight in the vine, the fig tree, the olive, the stately oak 
and the plane tree ; so too, in the arbutus, the myrtle and ‘the 
violet bed beside the well.” The hooting of the owl, the shrill 
piping of the cicada, and the sweet notes of the lark and the 
nightingale are heard in the land. 

About the mainland are the islands, which are regarded politi- 
cally as an essential part of the territory of Attika,*—Aigina,° 
which the Lakedaimonians coveted, merely that they might 
dispossess the poet (who is known to have had an estate there) ; 
Salamis,° with its seafaring population, oft mentioned because of 
the naval engagement fought in its straits; and Euboia,’ pointed 
out on the map by the Disciple of Sokrates to the docile Strep- 
siades, as stretching out a long way by the side of Attika, and 
which had been ‘stretched’ by Perikles. 

Of the mountains of Attika, Parnes® plays the chief réle in 
Aristophanes. It is from Mount Parnes whence the Chorus of 
the Clouds descends gently towards the theatre. Hither Lama- 
chos had to journey in the depth of winter to guard the moun- 
tain passes from Boiotian robbers. Leipsydrion® was one of its 
strongholds. Phelleus,"” where goats were pastured and wood 
was gathered, was probably one of the spurs of Parnes. Kyklo- 
boros," generally considered to be a mountain torrent pouring 
down from Parnes’ slopes, serves frequently as a simile to describe 
the thunderous voice of the loud-mouthed Kleon. ‘Perky’ 
Lykabettos” is twice mentioned in connection with Parnes, if in 
B. 1056 we read with certain of the editors Παρνήθων rather than 


Παρνασῶν. 
IN 299 ff. 2 Cf. A ggo ff., Ex 580, 1127 ff., O 228 ff. εἴ a. 
30 1192, He 252, Pan 7Os 5A 653, = 123, B 363. 
®T 785, B 204, A 59, 411, Ex 38. ΤῊΝ ΖΕ ως: 


8 A 348, Ν 323, B 1056, ἔτ. p. 509. The references of the fragments are 
to the edition of Dindorf, Oxford, 1835. 
2A 665.) A273, N70. 1) A 983,10 037) fr. 275,530... 2? Bigasa, er. S00: 


THE ATHENS OF ARISTOPHANES. 243 


No reference is made to the more famous Pentelikon and 
Hymettos, nor to therivers Kephissos and Ilissos. Aristophanes 
cites places and monuments merely because the situation he is 
describing calls for mention of them, and the only conclusion we 
can legitimately draw from omissions, such as these, is that while 
occupying so prominent a place in literature and art these moun- 
tains and rivers were not so intimately associated with the daily 
life of the people as those more frequently mentioned. And we 
must reflect that Pausanias, whose business it was to describe 
what he saw, ignores the Pnyx and many monuments which must 
have stared him in the face. 

Paralia,' or the seacoast, and Diakria,? the mountain region, 
are recognized as divisions of Attika. And many of its historic sites 
and characteristic demes are presented in suggestive passages. 
Sounion® is the Aegean headland, the promontory of Athens, 
sacred to Poseidon of the golden trident, who is here worshiped 
and who smites his own temple and the tall oaks. Laureion* is 
cited only for its owls. Eleusis,’ is the spot, ‘‘ where is reverence 
for sacred rites not to be divulged ; where the house that receives 
the initiated is thrown open in holy mystic rites.”’” Marathon,° 
with its lovely meads, where was set up the trophy of victory, is 
symbolical of that sturdiness of character nurtured by the Old 
Education, for the return of which the poetlonged. Phyle’ was 
still reminiscent of Thrasyboulos, when the Ploutos was com- 
posed; and to Phyle Lamachos was dispatched against his 
protest through the snow to guard the passes. 

Of the demes of Attika, Acharnai,® the largest and the most 
important, has given its name to one of the extant comedies, a 
deme of charcoal-burners, selected no doubt by the poet because 
here ne found that love of freedom and manly vigor characteristic 
of the older generation. About the play is the atmosphere of 


TA 58. 331223): 

3I 560 and N 441 corroborate fully the recently discovered inscription 
which proves that the beautiful temple hitherto called the temple of Athena 
was the temple of Poseidon (v. Berl. Phil. W. Sept. 2, 1899; Athen. Mitth. 
xxiv, 1899, p. 349). Cf. also 0 869, B 665. 

“Ὁ 1106. 5N 302. 

SA 181, 696, N 986, = 711, 0 246, Θ 806, B 1296, A 285. 

TA 1023, 1075, Π 1146. 

8A 177, 180, 200, 203, 223, 329, 666 e¢ αἰ., A 62, Θ 563. 


244 MITCHELL CARROLL. 


vigorous country life. Its seniors are ‘sturdy old fellows, tough 
as oak, inflexible, Marathon men, stout as maple.’ Nor are the 
women of Acharnailess pronounced. Lysistrate counted on them 
first of all to join with her in her plot to restore peace to Hellas, 
and in the Thesmophoriazousai mention is made of the story 
of an Acharnian woman who once buried her father under the 
kitchen-boiler. Other demes are known from the characters 
attributed to them. Who does not recall Dikaiopolis of Chol- 
leidai,’ and Trygaios, the Athmonian,’and Strepsiades of Kikynna,° 
and Euelpides of Krios* and the less known Strymodoros of 
Konthyle,® ‘best of fellow-dicasts,’ and Chabes of Phlya,’ his 
comrade, and Chairephon of Sphettos,’ and “ What’s his name 
of the deme of Kothokidai?”* Other demes and places freerred 
to for various reasons are—Anagyrous,’® Brauron,’” Halimous,"t 
Kephalai,” Kropidai,* Pergasai,"* Skiron” and Skambonidai.”* 

Coming to Athens itself, we find it frequently cited by name. 
Athena” is guardian of the city and is supreme over this “ most 
sacred spot, surpassing all others in war and in poets and 
in dominion.” ® For the city, Aristophanes has his favorite epi- 
thets—ancient (dpyaiat),’® sacred (iepat),” wondrous (θαυμασταί), 
much-sung-of (sodvupvor),’® sumptuous (Aurapai),” violet-crowned 
(ἰοστέφανοι)," much-to-be-envied (dpifjdwro).” The epithets 
Aurapat and ἰοστέφανοι, the latter being first used by Pindar, are 
made the subject of facetious parody in the parabasis of the 
Acharnians. The ambassadors from the cities, says the poet, 
made use of the term ἰοστέφανοι in order to cajole the Athenians ; 
and he plays upon the double meaning of the word λιπαρός 
‘sumptuous’ and ‘sleek’ or ‘greasy,’ alleging that if the envoys 
soft-sawdered them by speaking of λιπαρὰς ... ᾿Αθήνας, they got 
whatever they wished, though merely imputing to the Athenians 
the glory of the anchovy. 

Many of the important demes of the city are ireeenees in 
characteristic passages,—Diomeia,” the site of the festival in honor 
of Herakles, whose réle Xanthias in the Frogs was playing, and 


1A 406. °®Ec 195. ?N 134, 210. 40 645. ΕΣ 23% 
S Desay ™N 156. 86 620. %A 65. 0H: 874. "0 408. 
180 7G.) AB ge eal σας bE 16. ἸΒΣ 81. 


MT 580, 763, Ν 602, Δ΄ 3145... ΠΤ 13927. 19 1127: Ὁ ΘΟ moss agen, 
1A 639, I 1329. 22 A 637, I 1324, 9. ΒΤ 1520: =! Bigg: 


THE ATHENS OF ARISTOPHANES. 245 


who sighs because it had not been for so long celebrated ; Melite,’ 
whence came the aforenamed Xanthias; Kolonos,? home of 
**Meton, whom Hellas and Kolonos knows”; and Kerameikos,® 
both the Inner, where near the gates the poor fellow at the Pana- 
thenaia got so sound a drubbing, and the Outer, often alluded to 
as the long home of the Athenian dead. 

About the walls* of the city swarm numbers of the inevitable 
dicasts and beside the battlements during the siege Dikaiopolis 
suffered hardship amid surroundings not so agreeable as those 
of the ambassadors to the Persian Court. At the city’s gates® 
were the cheaper markets, where sausages were sold made of 
rather unpalatable ingredients. The streets® of the city were 
narrow and muddy, for, according to the Chorus of the Wasps, 
the old fellows seek their way with the aid of lamps, and should 
the light by any chance become extinguished, there was danger 
that they would stir up the mud as they walked, like the snipes. 

Demosthenes’ promises the Sausage-Seller in the Knights, that 
when he demolishes Kleon, he shall become alone Lord of the 
Agora and of the Harbors and of the Pnyx. As these were 
the chief centers of Athenian life, they receive the most frequent 
mention in the comedies of Aristophanes. To notice first the 
harbors. 

The Peiraieus* was a clever device of Themistokles, yet not 
so clever as the chiton which the Sausage-Seller presented to 
Demos; it was kneaded up by Themistokles for the city, while 
the latter was at breakfast;® one of its harbors was known as 
_Kantharos;” its Deigma™ or Exchange, points a witticism against 
“the litigious propensities of the Athenians; its Tenderloin dis- 
trict” was observed by Trygaios as he mounts heavenward on 
his beetle; its marts and merchant ships” are pointed out to the 
Sausage-Seller as part of his possessions, when he overcomes his 
rival; its colonnades and dock-yards™ are scenes of busy activity 
in times of war, when vessels are being launched, figure-heads are 
getting gilded, provisions are being measured out, colonnades 
are groaning with the press of business, and the dock-yards are 
filled “ with spars getting cut into oars, wooden pins resounding, 


1B sot. 20 998. #BIT293) 1003. Orage, ie 2s 
43 1107, A 72. 51 1246, 1398. ΟΣ 250 ff. Wis. 
δ 2b Sxg. αὐ Re tase 1.1 ὃγ9.. Be 16.) AE 19x!) A Aas. 


246 MITCHELL CARROLL. 


bottom oars getting furnished with thongs, and boatswains’ flutes, 
fifes, whistlings.”” Phaleron,' on the other hand, has so sunk in 
the scale of importance, that it is noted only for its anchovies, 
which are frequently the subject of ludicrous mention. 

The Pnyx is the subject of illuminating passages or forms the 
center of important scenes in various plays. Thus in the Achar- 
nians” we are introduced to the Pnyx as the place of assembly. 
When Dikaiopolis arrives, he finds the Pnyx deserted and sees 
the members gossiping in the Agora, trying to avoid the vermil- 
ioned rope; but at the hour of noon they rush in pell-mell, every 
man scrambling for the first seat. Demos, in the Knights,’ insists 
upon coming to the Pnyx to decide the contest between the 
Paphlagonian and the Sausage-Seller, for he cannot sit in com- 
fort in any other place. Sosias, in the Wasps,‘ relates to 
Xanthias, his fellow slave, the vision that appeared to him in his 
dream—some sheep sitting together with staffs and cloaks, hold- 
ing an assembly in the Pnyx, and addressed by a whale with the 
voice of a bloated sow—a parody on Kleon and the stupidity of 
the Athenians. And in the Peace® Hermes tells Trygaios how 
the goddess Eirene is anxious to know “who at present is master 
of the Bema in the Pnyx.” The Thesmophoriazousai*® doubtless 
settles conclusively the question that the Pnyx was the scene 
of the celebration of the Thesmophoria, and much of the fun 
of the piece centers round this fact. The Pnyx became for a few 
days annually, as we judge from the play, a sacred precinct under 
exclusive feminine control. The assembly, the female herald, 
the prayer, the debate, the resolution, show that in ancient times 
as in modern, feminine assemblies got their ideas of parliamentary 
practice from the sterner sex. And when Mnesilochos is dis- 
covered, they run round the whole Pnyx, and search the tents 
and the passages in the vain endeavor to find another masculine 
interloper. The strong-minded women of the Ekklesiazousai’ 
desired to hold forever the possession of that Pnyx which the 
women of the Thesmophoriazousai held annually for a season. 
They disguised themselves as men, seized the best places in the 
Pnyx, overawed and out-voted the regular members of the assem- 
bly, and petticoat rule is established in Athens. 


1A got, Ὁ 76, fr. 422. 2 A 20 ff. 31745 ff. 4% 30 ff. 
5 E: 680. 6.6 655 ff.; cf. 278, 879 etc. TEx ὃς ff., 280 ff. 


THE ATHENS OF ARISTOPHANES. 247 


The neighboring hills—the Areiopagos, the Hill of the Nymphs 
and the Hill of the Muses, receive no mention, but Barathron,’ 
just outside the walls, as a place of dire punishment, has become 
a term of execration, and to it various disagreeable persons are 
consigned by their angry antagonists. 
~The Agora or Market-Place, as the center of Athenian life, 
naturally constitutes the chief theatre of action for the characters 
of the Aristophanic plays, being referred to in all the extant 
comedies and in the fragments as well.’ It is represented as the 
resort for lounging and gossip, for public and private business; it 
has its boundaries, its market-tolls, its market-clerks ; its various 
commodities are often mentioned in detail; even its plane-trees, 
said to have been planted by Kimon, are referred to in a frag- 
ment. The κύκλοι, or sections of the Agora, devoted to specific 
lines of business, are familiar places of resort—the flour-market,’ 
fish-market,‘ bird-market,° cheese-market,® vegetable-market,’ 
bran-market,® lamp-market,? perfume-market,” myrtle-wreath- 
market," pottery-market,” barber-shops,” chemists’-shops, &c., 
ἄς. 

Buildings and temples and statues, known from Pausanias and 
from other sources, to lie within the limits of the Agora or in its 
neighborhood, are mentioned amid associations that fix them 
forever in the memory. 

Into the Bouleuterion” or Senate-House, the author was drag- 
ged by Kleon on account of his last comedy (the Babylonians), 
and calumniated and lied against. Hither rushed Kleon and the 
Sausage-Seller in their efforts to convince Demos of their respec- 
tive merits and Kleon is carrying the day by the mere strength of 
his voice, when his opponent creates a diversion by announcing 
the reduced price of anchovies, whereupon the dignified Senators 
leap over the barriers and rush out to avail themselves of the 
change in the market. Possibly in the ‘Basileia’* of the Birds,’ 
there is an allusion to Basileia the queen-mother of the neigh- 


1T 1362, N 1450, B 574, I 431, 1100, fr. 3009. 

2A 21, 533, 719, 896; I 147, 181, 293, 636, 1009, 1245, 1373, 13753 N 991, 
1000, 1055; Σ 16, 492, 659, 1372; Ez 999; 0 1000; A 558; 6 457, 578 ; B 13505 
Ex 62, 681, 711, 728, 819; IL 787, 874; fr. 162, 3; 344, 3, 83 391. 

3 Ex 686. 4B 1068, = 789. δ0 14. €Bi1068.) pT Avery (8 1 584. 

aNeroGss. ΤΟ nazis: 6) 248. 3 A557. Sa ae eee Ν ΤΟΥΣ 

15 A 379, I 395, 485. 160 1537 (v. Miss Harrison, Athens, p. 52). 


248 MITCHELL CARROLL. 


boring Metroon. The Heliaia,’ a comprehensive term for the 
various judicial courts, one of which was the New Court into 
which Philokleon, the old jurist of the Wasps, on one occasion 
rushed and began to adjudicate—naturally calls for frequent 
mention in an author who delights in satirizing the litigious propen- 
sities of the Athenians. Public maintenance in the Prytaneion,” 
outside the boundaries of the Agora, but in its neighborhood, the 
emolument of many public servants, worthy and unworthy, is 
oft-times the subject of the poet’s sarcasm. Thither the King’s 
Eye is invited; the Sausage-Seller is summoned by Demos to 
the Prytaneion, to the seat once occupied by Kleon, and even in 
Hades, the best poet was to receive maintenance in the Pryta- 
neion. The Stoai’ or Colonnades, used as regular resorts by the 
Athenians for business and gossip, are vividly brought to mind 
in suggestive passages. Thus in the Ekklesiazousai when Prax- 
agora recounts the blessings of feminine supremacy, the law courts 
and the Stoai are to be devoted to the use of the men at the 
public tables. She will take her stand in the Agora and deter- 
mine by lot whither the people are to go to dine,—some to the 
Stoa Basileios, some to the Colonnade next to this (probably the 
Stoa Eleutherios), and some to the flour-market. The Stoa 
Poikile* is not expressly mentioned, but the mounted Amazons 
of Mikon, one of the paintings with which it was adorned, served 
to point a moral for the Chorus of the conservative old men in 
the Lysistrate who are inveighing against the novel antics of the 
women. Of the temples, the shrine of Theseus® and the pre- 
cinct of the Eumenides are places of refuge for the oppressed, 
whither the scandalized upper-class trireme of the Knights ex- 
plains she will sail away and sit down as a suppliant rather than 
let the hated Hyperbolos board her. 

Allusions in Aristophanes to the famous statues of Harmodios 
and Aristogeiton,® and to the popular skolion upon these heroes of 
democracy, are frequent. The old gentlemen of the Lysistrate, 
fearful of the encroachments of the women, swear that over them 
they shall not tyrannize, for henceforth they will wear their sword 
in a myrtle-bough and will lounge in arms in the market-place 


1T 897, N 835, 3 87, 121, A 383. 

2A 125, I 167, 281, 709, 766, 1404, Ex 1084, B 764. 

3 Ex 684, 685, 686, A 548. £A 678 f. ΙΖ ΣΙ Aye ual 
6 A 633, Ex 682, Σ 1225. 


THE ATHENS OF ARISTOPHANES. 249 


near the statue of Aristogeiton. In the Ekklesiazousai Praxagora 
gathers all the people beside the statue of Harmodios, and chooses 
them by lot, and sends them to the various syssitia. The statue 
of Pandion,’ one of the Eponymoi, whose statues were set up ina 
group in the Agora, was used as a conspicuous place for posting 
public notices. Thus the poor conscript in the Peace had no 
individual warning and knew not he must go to war until stand- 
ing by Pandion’s statue, he saw his name on the list for service. 
The Aristophanic Sausage-Seller swears by the Hermes? of the 
Agora, a prominent bronze statue near the Stoa Poikile. 

Allusions to the Hermai® erected in the streets and squares of 
the city and to the little chapels and statues of Hekate,* which 
every citizen had before his door, give valuable hints as to the 
private life of the Athenians. 

Leaving the centers of political and commercial life and coming 
to those of education and physical training, we find that the 
schools, palaistrai and gymnasia* frequented by the young men 
of the town, figure largely in Aristophanes, particularly in the 
debate regarding the Old and the New Education carried on by the 
Δίκαιος and ἴΑδικος Λόγος in the clouds. Here the Academy’ is 
described as the resort Jar excellence, where the young men ran 
races “beneath the sacred olives along with some modest com- 
peer crowned with white reeds, redolent of yew and careless 
ease, and of leaf-shedding white poplar, rejoicing in the season 
of spring when the plane tree whispers to the elm.” The Lyceum’ 
had its military as well as civic uses, alluded to by the citizen in 
the Peace, who complains of marching in and out of the Lyceum 
with shield and spear as one of the trials of war. 

We pass finally to the Akropolis and its immediate neighbor- 
hood,;and consider first, its southern slope, on which were situated 
the theatre of Dionysos and the precinct of Asklepios. As tothe 
theatre® itself, it is clear from Aristophanes, that it was open to 
the sky, that the spectators still sat on wooden benches and that 
it was a special honor to be present at the festivities in splendid 
apparel beside the statue of Dionysos. Hard by the theatre was 
the Odeion of Perikles, mentioned as the seat of one of the 


1 Ἐπ 1183. 31 297. 3 A 1094, 0 1084, Ez 925. ἊΣ 805, A 63, B 364. 
5 N 179, 964, 972, 1002, 1050, 2 1025, 1215, B 1070. 
ΒΝ 1005. 1 Ee 355. SN 322, 8 395, I 535, B 217. 


250 MITCHELL CARROLL. 


courts frequented by the dicasts. We are inclined with Kock 
to locate the much disputed Δίμναι in the neighborhood of the 
theatre, for the Chorus of the Frogs in Hades recall ‘the song 
once sung in Limnai round the Nysaian Dionysos, son of Zeus, 
when the crowd of worshippers rambling in drunken revelry on 
the sacred festival of the Chytroi marched through their domain.’ 
Of the precinct of Asklepios* and the cult of the healing god, 
we have a lively picture given us in the Ploutos, wherein the 
blind god of wealth is led to the temple, and the method of his 
cure described in detail; we also recall that in the Wasps the old 
man Philokleon was seized and made to lie down by night in the 
precinct of Asklepios. 

The action of the Lysistrate? centers round the Akropolis, 
which has been seized by the women of Hellas, who have adopted 
a novel method of bringing about peace between the belligerents. | 
The Akropolis is to Aristophanes the μεγαλόπετρος ἄβατος ἀκρόπολις, 
ἱερὸν τέμενος and in reading the Lysistrate, its topographical features 
are brought vividly to mind, —the citadel, garrisoned by the women 
who have made fast the Propylaia with bolts and bars,—the 
Chorus of Old Men advancing slowly up the western slope to 
smoke out and to burn out the revolted women, and their dis- 
comfiture at the hands of their feminine antagonists,—the Temple 
of Demeter Chloe hard by the Propylaia outside the fortifications, 
near which the ardent husband of Myrrhine is first spied as he 
approaches,—and the Grotto of Pan and the Klepsydra connected 
with the bridal chamber incident of the young married lovers. 
Reference is made in the course of the play to ‘the inexhaustible 
sum of money in the temple of the goddess,’ to ‘the sacred 
wooden image’ and to ‘the guardian serpent’ whose abode, 
as generally accepted, was in the Erechtheion. Suggestive al- 
lusions occur also in other plays. The gold-and-ivory image 
of Athena Parthenos is suggested in the Knights,*> where the 
Sausage-Seller brings to Demos spoon-shaped pieces of bread, 
which, says he, ‘ were scooped out by the goddess with her ivory 
hand,’ and Demos exclaims ‘What a huge finger then you have, 
O mistress!’ Ploutos‘ after the restoration of his vision, is 
established with becoming dignity on the Akropolis, as ‘ guardian 


171 411, 621, 636, 640, 2 123. 2Cf. A 174, 260, 483, 759, 836, 911, ἐξ αἴ. 
51 1169. ἘΠ 1193: 


THE ATHENS OF ARISTOPHANES. 251 


of the Opisthodomos of the goddess.’ And like the Akropolis 
Nephelokokkygia of the Birds' has its Pelargikon. Finally, the 
picture in the Knights’ of the redeemed Demos gains in strength 
and vitality from its association with the Akropolis, where he is 
represented seated enthroned on his sacred rock,—“ He is dwelling 
in the violet-crowned, the ancient Athens, like as he was when he 
used to mess with Aristeides and Miltiades. Ye shall see him: for 
now there is the sound of the Propylaia swinging open. But 
shout aloud at the appearance of the ancient Athens, both 
wondrous and much sung of, where the illustrious Demos dwells.” 

The foregoing sketch has, perhaps, been sufficient to indicate 
that we have in Aristophanes abundant illustrative material for 
the study of Athens and Attika, and that his references to places 
and monuments are very comprehensive in their scope, embracing 
as they do, the islands, the principal sites and demes of the 
mainland, and of Greater Athens, the harbors, the Pnyx, the 
Agora and its monuments, and the Akropolis and its neighborhood. 
The most salient characteristic of the local allusions of Aristo- 
phanes is that in every instance the places and monuments are 
mentioned incidentally to the portrayal of life. The locality is 
inevitably associated with the living character created by the 
greatest of comic artists, and consequently receives a connotation 
which appeals to the sensibilities and the imagination. This has 
been happily expressed by Professor Gildersleeve:* ‘The wave 
of Aristophanes’ torch often fixes an image such as no detailed 
drawing can yield.” And it is because of this abiding human 
interest in his local allusions that Aristophanes is such an indis- 
pensable traveling companion to the Greek student on Attic soil. 
We cannot, it is true, dispense with the rather droll and arid Pau- 
sanias, for,as we haveseen, it is his detailed descriptions which make 
it possible for us to realize the wealth of local colour in Aristophanes. 
Yet the point of view of the guide-book maker and antiquarian 
was altogether different from that of the portrayer of the comic 
side of Athenian life, and while we go to the former for facts, we 
go to the latter for inspiration. Whenever I seek to estimate the 
respective merits of Aristophanes and Pausanias, I am vividly 


10 832. ἍὙΕ 1724. Ἧς 
3 My Sixty Days in Greece, III. My Travelling Companions, Atlantic 
Monthly, August, 1897. 


282 MITCHELL CARROLL. 


reminded of the prophet Ezekiel’s vision of the valley of dry 
bones. Pausanias mentions numberless places, and buildings, 
and temples, and statues, many of which are, as he says, θέας ἄξιοι 
but nevertheless, as he does not associate them with life, he sets 
us down ‘in the midst of a valley full of bones, and lo! they are 
very dry.’ Aristophanes, by the wave of his wand, supplies the 
sinews and the flesh and the breath of life, and makes the dry 
bones of topographical data become living realities to every 
student of Athens and Attika. 
Tue CoLumsran University. MITCHELL CARROLL. 


ON THE THEORY OF THE IDEAL CONDITION 
IN LATIN. 


In all the Latin grammars in use in this country, in the chapter 
on the Unreal Condition, we are warned that when the apodosis 
contains an idea of possibility, power, obligation or necessity, or 
the active or passive periphrastic or its equivalents, etc., the In- 
dicative is used instead of the Subjunctive. The same is true of 
most of the foreign grammars. 

Various suggestions are offered in explanation of this phenom- 
enon, most of which involve the idea that in these sentences we 
have not genuine conditional sentences, but that the apodosis is 
stated absolutely. Some grammars go so far as to supply a con- 
ditional apodosis, as: he had the power to do so (and would 
have done so) if, etc. 

In the third edition of Gildersleeve’s Latin Grammar (1894) 
certain of the examples usually cited under this head were trans- 
ferred to the ‘Ideal from the Past Point of View’. But the sub- 
ject has not been adequately discussed, and it has seemed to me 
desirable to indicate what appears to me to be the theory of the 
usage, so far as the narrow limits of this paper will admit. No 
attempt will be made at a thorough discussion of the literature of 
the subject, for which readers are referred to the articles cited 
below. 

In an extensive article, in 1884,’ Lilie endeavored to explain 
the usage. He drew attention to the fact that this use of the 
Indicative is not an isolated use, but is found with a Present Sub- 
junctive protasis also; and maintained that in investigating the 
matter we should begin with the Present Subjunctive, rather than 
with any other tense,—a perfectly just contention. 

In formulating the difference between a conditional sentence 
in which both members have the same mood, and one in which 
they have different moods, he says: 


1Conjunctivischer Bedingungssatz bei indicativischem Hauptsatz im 
Lateinischen von Dr. C. Lilie. Berlin Pr. 1884. 


254 GONZALEZ LODGE. 


‘Wahrend namlich in den hypothetischen Perioden bei der 
Congruenz der Modi beide Glieder dieselbe Stellung zur Wirk- 
lichkeit haben, so beansprucht hier die Aussage des indicativischen 
Satzes entschiedene und durchgangige Giltigkeit auch fiir sich, 
wogegen die im Vorstellungsmodus erscheinende Annahme in 
suspenso bleibt; wahrend in jenen zwei sachlich coordinierte 
Glieder durch Correlation mit einander verbunden sind, so dass 
sie zu einander stehen als Vordersatz und Nachsatz, nicht als 
Haupt- und Nebensatz, so ist hier einem Hauptsatz durch Subordi- 
nation ein Nebensatz verbunden; wahrend in jenen, wo aus 
einer Annahme eine Folge hergeleitet wird, der bedingende Satz 
den antecedierenden Gedanken enthalt, so entsteht er hier erst 
hinter dem Gedanken des Hauptsatzes; er ist also ein posteriori- 
scher Nebensatz im Sinne der neueren Grammatiker.’ 

Blase’ takes issue with this distinction of Lilie, and maintains 
that the difference is rather one of period, showing by statistics 
that the form es? sz s7# grows in Latin at the expense of the form 
sit st sit,and practically drives out the latter.» As happens so 
often in such discussion, both are at fault, Lilie in making all the 
est si sit forms cases of subordinate sz, Blase in practically deny- 
ing that any are. 

That sz has, to a certain extent, the effect of a subordinating 
particle, has long been recognized in the grammars, in the semi- 
interrogative constructions after verbs of Trial and Expectation. 
In the case of the former it is paralleled by the construction with 
ut, and in the latter case, dum and uf are also used. So that the 
subordinating character is evident. 

In a short treatment of the subject in 1896, Greenough tried 
to deduce the Unreal usage referred to above from the future 
outlook of the verbs employed, in my mind the only correct 
method, but he failed to develop any means of discrimination 
except the very doubtful one of emphasis in the Roman enunci- 
ation. 


1 Der Konjunktiv des Praesens im Bedingungssatze, Archiv IX, p. 17 ff: 

2 This article of Blase’s furnishes an excellent illustration of the slight 
value of statistics, if not properly interpreted. Actual counting does show 
a large growth of the form est si sit. But I can see no attempt to discover 
the difference in the effects of the two types and a consequent investigation 
whether the Roman ceased to need the one type. 

3 Some Features of the Contrary-to-fact Condition, Harvard Studies in 
Classical Philology, VII, p. 13 ff. 


THEORY OF THE IDEAL CONDITION IN LATIN. 255 


In the discussion of the Unreal Condition in Latin, we are 
fortunate in not being able to refer to the Greek for assistance. 
In Greek, Unreality is a matter of tense in combination with 
particle (ἄν). In Latin it is a matter primarily of mood, fixed by 
opposing reality. 

Consequently, in our discussion, we have to consider the mood, 
and then of course the tense. In considering the Subjunctive 
mood, the typical tense is the Present. 


The Subjunctive Mood, Present Tense. 


The investigations of recent years into the original forces of the 
moods have resulted in a practical agreement that the Subjunctive 
mood was future in force. Whether the Subjunctive is derived 
from the Future or the Future from the Subjunctive is of little 
importance. The important point is that the Subjunctive and the 
Future were inextricably combined as far back as we can reach. 
The Optative was also future in force. It is true that there was 
a Perfect Optative, but in this case the tense expressed kind of time, 
not sphere of time, as the ascertainment was always future. 

Now the Latin Subjunctive, combining the functions of both 
the Subjunctive and the Optative, must of necessity at the outset 
have been future and only future in force. 

How does this future force manifest itself in Latin? In inde- 
pendent sentences the Subjunctive is used mainly in the Potential 
and the Optative forms. Inthe case of the Potential, the narrator 
interprets the nature of the person or object under discussion as 
having a certain potentiality for action. This must of necessity 
be future from the point of view of the narrator, which is always 
present. The genuine wish is also always future, having regard 
either to action that is to be, or (more rarely) to ascertainment. 
The Will side of the Subjunctive is shown in the Imperative 
usage and in the Deliberative Question. Both of these are future 
from the point of view of the narrator. 

In other words the present Subjunctive is prospective from the 
point of view of the narrator. In this lies the key to the whole 
matter. 

The conception involved in the word prospective is very old. 
Every grammar that has used of the Subjunctive the word Design, 
Contingency, or Suspense, has used the word prospective thereby. 


256 GONZALEZ LODGE. 


It has also always been present in Expectation. The term has 
however certain advantages, which the recent discussion as to its 
inventor has brought out; but these advantages are perhaps all 
present in the term suspense, which has also the additional 
advantage of showing the spirit as well as the attitude of the subject. 

Now, the narrator may combine two future conceptions. 
So far as the Subjunctive is concerned a premiss in the form 
of a wish may be followed by a conclusion in the form of a poten- 
tiality (Subjunctive), a wish (Optative), a will (Imperative) or 
a prediction (Predictive Future). Both of these members would 
have the same relation to the narrator, and the result would be 
a normal conditional sentence, of the Ideal form. The important 
matter to bear in mind is that both these members are referable 
primarily to the narrator, and by his act to each other, but the one 
isnot the complement of the other nor is it dependent upon the 
other. Lilie is right thus far, though he was, as is evident, wrong in 
restricting his combination to a ‘Congruenz der Modi.’ 

Opposed to this normal form is what may be called the 
spurious form. The original prospective sentence introduced by 
st may have proceeded from one of many mental attitudes on the 
part of the narrator. When this attitude is actually spelled out 
in words, the force of the sz clause is no whit modified, but the 
attitude of the subject is clearer. This is the form that has given 
all the trouble. If in a sentence o sz hoc verum sit, we substitute 
for the o any form that looks forward, such as J zntend, J can, 
I must, 7 ought, we have this spurious condition. If we substitute 
Lam waiting, Iam trying, the effect is the same. None of these 
forms has a genuine apodosis, which is already implied in the 
statement of attitude. But it is not on that account necessary to 
supply an apodosis. That would be a work of supererogation. 

One very important thing needs emphasizing. The sz clause 
now must be measured not from the point of view of the narrator, 
but from the point of view actually stated. So long as this is the 
point of view of the narrator, that is, so long as the narrator gives 
his own experiences, there is no difficulty, but just as soon as the 
narrator gives the mental attitude or interprets the potentiality of 
any one other than himself, we have the idea of Oratio Obliqua 
at once entering. Asa result, it is almost impossible to exclude 
the idea of Oratio Obliqua from these spurious conditions. Inas- 
much however as both points of view, the actual and the assigned, 


THEORY OF THE IDEAL CONDITION IN LATIN. 257 


are in the present, the conflict in personality escapes notice, though 
it is none the less present. 

In his further discussion Lilie makes four categories, according 
as the sz clause stands to the leading clause, as: 1, forderndes; 
2, hinderndes; 3, Ausnahme; 4, aufhebendes. This division 
seems to me not to be vital. It is more important to divide 
according to the effect of the leading verb. 

To mention only the more important categories, we find : 

1. Verbs of Trial and Expectation. These are more frequently 
followed by a clause of design, verbs of Expectation also have 
dum. The sz construction is merely the simplest way of indi- 
cating suspense. 

2. Verbs of Possibility, Power, Obligation and Necessity. In 
cases like these the apodosis is usually involved in a following 
Infinitive, which is waiting for existence until it shall please the 
st clause to allow it. 

3. The Active and Passive Periphrastic. The former expresses 
intention, the latter will. With the former the idea of Oratio 
Obliqua is very near at hand. To this category the Future 
indicative when volitive must be added, though such a usage is 
rare by reason of the use of the periphrastic. 

4. Any word or phrase that looks toward the future. Such as, 
There are two roads tf you are going towards Rome. There ts 
a store on the Appian Way tf you are searching for pictures. 
We have strong hopes, if he can be gotten out of the city. This 
is a broad category. 

5. The Present tense when it indicates progress. For progress 
is often due to pressure and that involves will. 

6. A number of usages like longum est, par est, aeqguom est, 
etc. (he conception seems to be a little different here. I, the 
narrator, look forward rapidly in my mind over a prospective 
course of action. My judgment remarks: it is long, it is fair, it 
is beautiful, it is good. The prospective idea is none the less 
involved, though not so evident. 

It will be seen that the conception of Repeated action can come 
very readily from more than one of the above categories; most 
easily from the fourth. It depends partly upon the character of 
the leading verb, partly upon the nature of the subject of the sz 
clause. 

It may also be added that the above list of categories may be 

17 


258 GONZALEZ LODGE. 


indefinitely increased, but as it seems to me, without correspond- 
ing advantage to the presentation. 


The lmperfect. 


The Imperfect is peculiar to the Latin. Formally, it is still 
obscure, and consequently we can obtain light only from the study 
of the function. 

Delbriick,’ from a study of the independent uses in Latin, namely 
the Unreal Wish, the Unreal Condition, the Potential of the Past, 
the Deliberative of the Past, comes to the following conclusion: 
‘Das eigentlich Bezeichnende fiir den sog. Konj. Impf. ist die 
Entferntheit von der Wirklichkeit, eine Anschauung von der die 
Versetzung in die Sphare der Vergangenheit nur eine Unterab- 
theilung bildet. Der Name Konj. Imperfecti ist deshalb nicht 
geeignet. Man sollte Irrealis des Praesens sagen.’ To my 
mind, the fact that this form does not always express unreality, 
but sometimes ideality, even if it is past, is sufficient to destroy 
the theory. To obtain unreality from ideality is easy, the reverse 
is logically almost impossible. 

Hale, in his article on the Sequence of Tenses,’ on the basis of 
a study of the behavior of this tense in subordination, claims that 
the Imperfect denotes time (past) and stage (incomplete). This, 
as it seems to me, introduces an idea into the Subjunctive which 
we are not justified in assuming, as I shall try to show. 

We have seen that the Subjunctive is future in its effect, and 
that the subordinate clause holds primarily a future relation to 
the leading point of view, whether it be of the narrator, or of the 
subject introduced. Now, when the narrative shifts from the 
present into the past, there is no apparent reason why the relation 
to the leading subject should change. What is prospective from 
the present point of view, is none the less prospective when the 
subject is in the past.2 The Roman felt this instinctively, as we 


1 Vergleichende Syntax, II, p. 398-404. 

WW eer ADE 700 E 

3 Here again we get no assistance fromthe Greek. The shift in Greek is 
one of Mood and rests upon the simple doctrine, set forth by Professor 
Gildersleeve, that what, from the point of view of the present or from the 
point of view of the narrator, is or may be wz//, must of necessity become 
wisk when another personality enters; which is of course necessary when 
the sphere shifts to the past. 


THEORY OF THE IDEAL CONDITION IN LATIN. 259 


see at once from his large employment of Representation in his 
colloquial language—a device which did not escape the notice of 
the later artistic historian. 

The Imperfect should accordingly be found in the same uses as 
the Present. Let us see. The Deliberative of the Past is not a 
question as to what under Aresent conditions should have been 
done in the as?, as would be a necessary inference from Hale’s 
view, but a question as to what, under certain conditions, in the 
past, should have been done subsequently to those conditions. 
The same holds true of the Unfulfilled Duty. This duty was 
incumbent under certain past conditions. The Potential of the 
Past gives the potentiality from a past point. In fact the Imper- 
fect is originally future to the past, not past to the present. 

If this is true it involves a further consideration. In the case 
of the present the fact that the narrator and the second subject 
are in the same time obscures the idea of Oratio Obliqua. But 
in the case of the Imperfect we have an enforced separation of the 
two personalities, and consequently it is often very difficult to 
avoid the Oratio Obliqua conception. 

Now, just as in the present sphere, we had the normal Ideal 
condition with both members referred to the narrator, so it is 
possible without any indication of Oratio Obliqua to transfer the 
same combination to the past. Then we have a genuine Ideal 
Condition from the past point of view, with both members in the 
Imperfect and no unreality indicated. Examples are naturally 
very rare but they do occur, and some are cited in Gildersleeve’s 
grammar and by Greenough in the article above referred to. 

Usually however the transfer affects these spurious conditional 
sentences which we have divided into categories above. 

The categories will remain the same in the past sphere as in the 
present. Still some interesting facts may be observed. Livy uses 
the Future Participle in predicate combination with a verb so 
frequently that it is a distinct mannerism. This falls under the 
third group. Caesar has a number of cases of the Imperfect in 
conditions. They all fall under the fourth group. The Imperfect 
Indicative is much more readily adapted to indicate progress than 
the Present: hence, the Imperfect Subjunctive after an Imperfect 
Indicative is not a rarity. 

In the case of the sixth group, we have no separation of the 
personalities. The Indicative clause gives the judgment of the 


260 GONZALEZ LODGE. 


narrator: consequently, the tendency towards unreality is ir- 
resistible and the Imperfect after this Indicative is a rarity. 

This leads to a consideration of unreality, which is wrapped up 
with the use of the Pluperfect. 


The Perfect, Pluperfect and Unreality. 


We have observed that with an Imperfect Subjunctive, the 
Potentiality, the Duty, the Command, the Question are all from 
the point of view of the expressed subject (Past). We also notice 
that every statement is made from the point of view of the nar- 
rator (Present). 

As the Present is subsequent to the Past, it may easily be within 
the knowledge of the narrator whether the duty was fulfilled, the 
potentiality exercised, or not. If this knowledge is negative, 
unreality is the effect: otherwise the ideality remains unimpaired. 

If the opposing reality is present, then the Imperfect Subjunctive 
seems to express an Unreality of the Present: if that opposing 
reality is itself past, then that same Imperfect seems to express 
an Unreality of the Past. This ambiguity of effect is natural and 
is frequent in the Early Latin, and occasional later. 

It was natural that the Roman should try to avoid this ambiguity. 
The English was confronted with the same problem. ‘What was 
he to do?’ has asa rule an unreal effect, but not necessarily so. 
‘What should he have done?’ always has the unreal effect. 

It thus appears that the English has fixed the unreal effect by 
means of the addition of the idea of completion through the tense. 
The Roman did the same. Unreality of the past was shown by 
throwing the activity into the completed stage, leaving the un- 
completed stage to serve for the Unreality of the Present. 

Greenough thinks that the Unreal of the Past is nothing but 
the transfer to the past of a condition in the Perfect Subjunctive. 
This is unlikely for two reasons. The Perfect Subjunctive con- 
dition is very rare indeed, much too rare to have served for any 
transfer. Then, the expression of both present and past unreality 
originally by the same form, shows that a differentiation must 
have been made. 

I do not mean to deny that occasionally there are conditions in 
which the reference is to a completed stage. In this case the 
transfer would bring the Perfect into the Pluperfect Subjunctive, 


THEORY OF THE IDEAL CONDITION IN LATIN. 261 


but with the Ideal, not the Unreal effect. We actually do find 
examples of just such transfers. 


Conclusions. 


Our conclusions are as follows :— 

A, Anormal Ideal Conditional sentence consists of two members 
usually both in the Subjunctive, and both referred independently 
to the narrator. 

When a complete Conditional sentence contains both members 
in the Imperfect Subjunctive, it is an Unreal Conditional sentence 
of the Present or (rarely) of the Past; except as follows. 

But it occasionally happens that an Ideal Conditional sentence 
which would have been naturally in the Present Subjunctive, is 
by transfer to the past point of view, put into the Imperfect 
Subjunctive without any indication of Oratio Obliqua except such 
as is involved in the transfer. 

B. Whenasi clause follows a verb in the Indicative, the sz clause 
may be either Ideal or Unreal, as follows :— 

1. If the leading verb has a future outlook the sz clause will be 
Ideal. This is always the case when it contains a Present or Perfect 
Subjunctive, regularly the case when it contains an Imperfect 
Subjunctive, and rarely so when it contains a Pluperfect Sub- 
junctive. 

2. When the future outlook is obscured by the intrusion of the 
point of view of the narrator, the sz clause may be regarded as 
Unreal. This is regularly the case when the clause contains 
a Pluperfect Subjunctive (particularly if introduced by <xz>), 
and rarely true if any other tense is involved. 


Teacasrs Cotrece, CocumsBiA UNIVERSITY. GONZALEZ LODGE. 


ae 
{ 


κὺ x 
One 


i a { ' 
lel ἢ "ἢ Maly op 
‘SA 


a Se 


if 


f 1) ἡ ν } 
ἽΝ, ΓᾺ i A 
f iA 


ἵν 
Ἷ ᾿ 





ON THE CASE CONSTRUCTION OF VERBS OF 
SIGHT AND HEARING IN GREEK. 


While the frequent association of verbs of sight and hearing 
under the same case-regimen in Greek invites a parallel treat- 
ment of the two senses, the study of their relations is interesting 
still more from the point of view of diversity than of similarity 
of case-construction. 

A brief preliminary survey of the nature of the cases employed 
seems desirable. These cases are almost exclusively accusative 
and genitive. With verbs of hearing the dative also enters to 
a small extent, but the reading is often doubtful and, where it is 
not, in a large proportion of the instances the case is dependent 
on the prefix with which the simple verb is compounded rather 
than on the verb itself. Therefore anything more than a passing 
reference to this case must be excluded from a paper necessarily 
brief. 

To consider first the accusative. Rumpel’s view seems in the 
main to reflect the nature of the case best, and his notion that the 
accusative is joined to the verb ‘ganz unmittelbar, prepares the 
way for the view that the relation of the case to the verb is not an 
enduring relation. Especially to be noted in this connection is 
the habit of forming what have been called by Professor Gilder- 
sleeve ‘temporary compounds”; 6. g. κακὰ ποιεῖν beside κακοποιεῖν, 
the σχῆμα xa’ ὅλον καὶ μέρος, and, by way of illustration from another 
source, such expressions as “brow-beat a man”. It is then buta 
step to the conviction that mobility as regards the action with which 
it is connected and the power of registering the action’s ultimate 
effect are among the chief characteristics of the accusative. 

This transitory quality of the accusative and its common func- 
tion as the indicator of the result of an action lead easily to 
the conception of the case as peculiarly involved, in the general 
lines of its use, with the operation of the will, as the power that 
both calls into being and dismisses from being. 

In order to illustrate this readiness of obedience to the will, 
two phenomena, everywhere present, will be observed. For the 


264 JAMES WILLIAM KERN. 


manifestation in the one direction we have the principle of the 
anticipation of the subject of the subordinate clause, by which 
that subject is wrested from its ordinary grammatical setting and 
lifted into temporary prominence, for a special reason. On the 
other hand, as reflecting the power of dismissal, may be mentioned 
the so-called attraction of the relative to the case of its expressed 
or unexpressed antecedent. 

At this point some help comes from our English speech. 
English is fond of dropping relatives, but only accusative rela- 
tives. The Greek does not drop his relatives, but disguises them. 
In both languages, under a different outward form, the same force 
is at work. 

This seems at least partly accounted for by the consideration 
that the accusative represents work done. It makes way for that 
which contains more vitality. As serving to show with what 
facility the accusative form vanishes in response to a force in 
the immediate surroundings, and then recovers itself as the force 
fades with distance, may be cited Dem. [48], 45: δίκην τῆς οἰκίας ἧς 
ἔφασκες μισθῶσαί pot ὡς σαυτοῦ οὖσαν. 

In addition to the qualities mentioned, it is useful for present 
purposes to note the quality of contrariety, recoil, at least sug- 
gested in the case by the fact that the impersonals ἐξόν, etc., 
regularly denote a relation of opposition. 

The genitive is a case of not simple but complex character, two 
cases in fact fusedinone. The differentiation of the two functions 
is sometimes a matter of extreme difficulty. The local situation 
furnishes the solution in many instances. If we place Il. 1, 44: 
Bn δὲ κατ᾽ Οὐλύμποιο καρήνων beside 19, 39: στάξε κατὰ ῥινῶν, the 
distinction in case force is at once made by the meanings of the 
words involved and by the general surroundings. 

One of the most widely extended and characteristic uses of the 
genitive is that which puts it on the same plane with the adjective. 
The two occur side by side both with nouns and with verbs in 
a way to show that they must have been felt as virtually if not 
absolutely equivalent. Thus in Od. 20, 265 we find δήμιος con- 
trasted with ’Odvojos and in 18, 353 occurs the adjective ’Odvonjor. 
Hdt. 5, 101: gives καλάμιναι beside καλάμου and in the same sense, 
while Plato, Protag. 313 B, matches ἑσπέρας ἀκούσας With ὄρθριος ἥκων. 
I have even ventured to compare Il. 9, 219: 


CONSTRUCTION OF VERBS OF SIGHT & HEARING. 265 


αὐτὸς δ᾽ ἀντίον ἷζεν Οδυσσῆος θείοιο 
τοίχου τοῦ ἑτέροιο 
with Eur. Androm. 266: 
κάθησ᾽ ἑδραία. 
The passivity of the genitive is well illustrated by Aesch. Agam. 
1359: 
νεκρὸς δὲ τῆσδε δεξιᾶς χερὸς 
ἔργον δικαίας τέκτονος. 
Compare “ my meat”’. 

In addition to that phase of the affinity of the genitive and 
the participle in which the one form is used as the approximate 
representative of the other, a no less important and instructive 
usage in Homer may be mentioned, wherein the genitive and the 
participle (“the adjective in motion”) manifest their attachment 
by association. The participle εἰδώς furnishes this illustration. 
The occurrences of the genitive with non-participial forms of this 
verb are few, only three or four, but sufficient, it would seem, to 
make it highly improbable that the participle in connecting itself 
with the genitive has lost the proper sense of the verb from which 
it is derived. That this form should show also the case-regimen 
of the other forms (i. e. the accusative) is not strange in view of 
the double nature of the participle, “that floater between noun 
and verb” (A. J. Ρ. ΙΧ, 137). In the one construction the noun 
end of the combination is emphasized, in the other the verb end. 

The range of words employed in the genitive in this connection 
is small, and their character is striking: τόξων, πολέμων (πολέμοιο), 
αἰχμῆς, muypaxins, μάχης, χάρμης, θήρης, ἀλκῆς, τύκοιο, πόνων, οἰωνῶν, 
θεοπροπίων, ἀγοράων, τεκτοσυνάων. Whether it be the warrior, the 
seer, the artisan, or the citizen that is considered, we have in the 
word the atmosphere in which he who follows the calling moves, 
his vital breath ; in this, the trailing end of the participle, to express 
it so, is conveyed the notion of intimate contact with details. The 
content of the noun appears to have much to do in bringing about 
the embrace. 

When the verb side of εἰδώς is uppermost, a marked difference 
of character in the nouns employed is to be observed. Of the 
occurrences, about twenty-five in number, I quote a few: μήδεα, 
αἴσιμα, ὀλοφώια, παλαιά τε πολλά τε, ἀθεμίστια, ἤπια, κέρδεα, κεδνά, λυγρά. 
More than half are substantivized neuter adjectives, a form en- 
tirely absent from the other class. The line separating the two 


266 JAMES WILLIAM KERN. 


usages seems clear. In the second we see no votary of a calling 
following up all the suggestions offered him in the open field of 
his profession ; instead the exercise of power to produce a definite 
result. The note of sympathy is distinctly lacking. 

The verbs of sight take everywhere and under all circumstances 
the accusative. In the single occurrence of ὀψείειν in Homer and 
in the Herodotean use of προορᾶν the faculty is complicated with 
other notions. Sight has been designated the ‘king-sense’. So 
the Greeks regarded it not only in what they had to say about it, 
but in the way they treated it in case-construction. It stands for 
will enthroned ; it recognizes no other side. Each visual act is 
a new creation or annihilation. The frequent assumption, partic- 
ularly by ὁρᾶν, θεᾶσθαι, of the prefix κατά seems an intensification 
of the already present notion of headship. The not infrequent 
employment of the aorist participle with the object of the verb, 
whether of outward or inward vision, accentuates that impatience 
of any bar to immediate and final results which is always present 
in a verb of sight. Again, the notion of conscious control of 
the situation is made more pronounced by the expression, with 
great frequency in Homer and all the poets, not seldom in other 
writers, Of ὄμμασι, ὀφθαλμοῖς. Plato is an exception. For him the 
full expression, if he wanted it, would be something like ψυχῇ δι᾽ 
ὀφθαλμῶν ὁρᾶν. 

The simplicity and directness in case-construction which char- 
acterizes verbs of sight as compared with verbs of hearing is very 
marked. While with the former class the accusative alone is 
admitted, with the latter the genitive also plays an important 
part. This diversified construction of verbs of hearing in contrast 
with verbs of sight corresponds to the broad distinction in 
character between the two senses from other points of view. 
Hearing is dependent on external conditions and influences, sight 
acknowledges no dependence; sight is active and aggressive, 
hearing is in large measure passive. This passivity is shown in 
the secondary sense of obedience which may appear at any time 
in a verb of hearing. This is well illustrated by the common 
Homeric verse: ὡς ἔφαθ᾽, οἱ δ᾽ dpa τοῦ μάλα μὲν κλύον ἠδ᾽ ἐπίθοντο. It 
is further distinctly shown by the construction with ὑπό or other 
preposition as an ordinary passive form. The passive sense is 
sometimes emphasized by sharp contrast with the active, e. g. 
Aesch. Eum. 426: 


CONSTRUCTION OF VERBS OF SIGHT & HEARING. 267 


κλύειν δικαίως μᾶλλον ἢ πρᾶξαι θέλεις. 


As a negative indication may count the rare expression of οὔασιν, 
ὠσί, with verbs of hearing, corresponding to ὀφθαλμοῖς, ὄμμασιν with 
verbs of sight. There is only one instance in Homer (Il. 12, 442), 
whereas this means of emphasizing the absolute control involved 
in verbs of sight is nowhere more clearly marked than in Homer. 

Two metaphors in Sophocles are instructive in their bearing 
upon the Greek conception of the sense of hearing. In O. T. 
1386 the blind Oedipus says: ἀλλ᾽ εἰ τῆς ἀκουούσης ἔτ᾽ ἦν πηγῆς δι᾿ ὥτων 
φραγμός, distinctly implying that the φραγμός is beyond his control. 
Again, in Antig. 1214, Kreon is told that a cry has been heard 
from the direction of Antigone’s tomb, and in an agony of dread 
lest it be his own child that has uttered it, he cries: παιδός pe σαίνει 
φθόγγος, which strikingly illustrates the clinging, pliant character 
of continuous sounds. These are bold figures, but when taken 
in connection with other indications along the same line, they are 
not without value. The fanciful expressions are but the reflection 
of what is elsewhere indicated more definitely, namely, that one 
phase of the act of hearing is the awaiting of outside influences 
over which the actor has no control. 

On the other hand, there is involved in the sense of hearing 
an element, if unstable, of activity. This is shown in a variety 
of ways. It is foreshadowed in the prefixes εἰς and ἐπί. Again, 
there is frequent association with verbs of sight, as in the familiar 
Homeric phrase, és πάντ᾽ ἐφορᾷ καὶ πάντ᾽ ἐπακούει (Il. 3, 277), and 
the putting forth of power in hearing is sometimes suggested in 
the combination, as in Plato, Legg. go2 C. The construction with 
the accusative is everywhere common, but even while thus mani- 
festing its active power, the verb of hearing not seldom shows its 
vacillating character by leaning at the same time to the passive 
construction, e. g. Ar. Eq. 820: ταυτὶ δεινὸν ἀκούειν ἐστίν μ᾽ ὑπὸ τούτου. 
The dependent or. obl. acc. w. inf. is not rare. Here, as the reso- 
lution ἀκοῇ νομισάντων Of Thuc. 4, 81 seems to show, the verb of 
hearing exhibits its composite nature, as reflecting the will of the 
actor tempered by external circumstances. So also in ἀκροᾶσθαι 
there is frequently present the notion of intention, as in Plato, 
Euthyd. 304 D, but this is easily supplanted by the close-lying 
sense of obedience, as in Thuc. 3, 37. This is true often also of 
the compounds ἐπακούειν, εἰσακούειν. So that we must be prepared 


268 JAMES WILLIAM KERN. 


to see any verb of hearing show, according to requirements, 
either its active or its passive side, sometimes both together, as 
has been noticed. 

And here it seems important to emphasize the adjective sense 
of the genitive. It is by no means contended that with verbs of 
hearing the genitive is always characterized by the notion of sus- 
pension which belongs to adjective and participle. There are 
various shades of color between the genitive of lightest touch 
and the coarsest ablative that requires some ‘gnomon’ to raise it. 
In this part of the genitive’s territory, as in others, the context 
must in many instances be the surest guide. 

To illustrate by the familiar double usage of ἔχεσθαι, what but 
the surroundings makes possible a distinction in case force be- 
tween 1]. 2, 97: 

κήρυκες βοόωντες ἐρήτυον, εἴποτ᾽ ἀυτῆς 

σχοίατ᾽, ἀκούσειαν δὲ διοτρεφέων βασιλήων 
and Od. 5, 429: 

τῆς ἔχετο orevdyov? 

Kriiger thinks that the genitive of the thing with verbs of 
hearing marks the “ Wirkungskraft” of the object, while in the 
accusative ‘der bloss percipirte Inhalt” is expressed. He does 
not state whether his term Wirkungskraft imputes to the genitive 
in this connection a clear-cut ablative sense, or a general evolu- 
tionary movement, without the distinct notion of separation. If 
the latter idea be intended, then from the very meaning of the word 
in many instances Wirkungskraft is to be seen in the accusative 
also, but Wirkungskraft as a totality, not in detail. 

Space does not permit a discussion here of the setting of the 
four occurrences of αὐδήν and the two of αὐδῆς with κλύειν in Homer 
nor of the one of κραυγήν and the two of κραυγῆς with ἀκούειν in 
Demosthenes, to select these as typical instances from many, 
but an examination of the connection will, it is believed, show 
that the accusative marks the absence of the responsive relation, 
the genitive its presence. 

An examination of participial usage in this connection will 
show that when the noun end of the combination is emphasized, 
we have the genitive; when the verb end, the accusative. There 
are apparent exceptions to this in situations where the case and 
the meaning of the participle are not in harmony, and such in- 
stances give rise to other interpretations to escape the difficulty. 


CONSTRUCTION OF VERBS OF SIGHT & HEARING. 269 


An example of this kind is Soph. Philoct. 426: οἷν ἐγὼ ἥκιστ᾽ ἂν 
ἠθέλησ᾽ ὀλωλότοιν κλύειν, in which the genitive has overbalanced 
the accusative, and the reason for this is found in the stress the 
speaker lays on the noun, as contrasted with the action which 
is connected with it. There are several instances (most of them 
in Homer) in which the genitive might not be expected in view 
of the meaning of the participle and in view, moreover, of the 
fact that the persons concerned are not within hearing distance of 
each other. These examples, which are collected by La Roche, 
have to do for the most part with the son’s anxious search for 
his father, or the longing of the wife and servant for the absent 
husband and master, or of the mother for her son. It appears 
better here, for the reason given, to see in the rare construction 
a drift away from what might, on other grounds, seem the more 
natural accusative, than to follow Kithner and La Roche in giving 
the sense by ‘de aliquo’, as if περί were to be supplied, and this 
is what Jebb also seems to imply in Soph. O. T. 307, κλύων σοῦ. 
In Soph. Philoct. 615 we read 
καὶ ταῦθ᾽ ὅπως ἤκουσ᾽ ὁ Λαέρτου τόκος 
τὸν μάντιν εἰπόντ᾽, 

where Kiihner says the accusative is employed instead of the 
usual genitive, apparently meaning that the sense is the same. 
The words as they stand mean merely that Odysseus heard a 
statement; to say that the seer made it to him personally (which 
is what the genitive would mean) is an unwarranted liberty of 
interpretation. 

It is important to notice, beside the double case-construction 
involving the participle, the double form of proleptic subject with 
verbs of hearing. Od. 3, 193: 

᾿Ατρείδην δὲ καὶ αὐτοὶ ἀκούετε νόσφιν ἐόντες 

ὥς τ᾽ ἦλθ᾽, 
and Dem. 19, 39: ἀκούετ᾽ ὦ ἄνδρες ᾿Αθηναῖοι τῆς ἐπιστολῆς, ὡς καλὴ καὶ 
φιλάνθρωπος. In the former instance the animate subject is hurried 
over in the eagerness to reach the more important predicate, 
whereas in the latter lively fancy reverses the process and ele- 
vates the inanimate subject into a living being. 

If the foregoing view as to the difference in sense between the 
accusative and the genitive as subject of the participle and as 
proleptic subject of the clause dependent upon a verb of hearing 
is correct, we have in it a clue to the distinction everywhere 


270 JAMES WILLIAM KERN. 


between these cases with such verbs. The words that occur in 
the genitive or the accusative with verbs of hearing may con- 
veniently be divided into two main classes: 1, Substantives proper; 
2, Substantivized neuter adjectives and participles. 

The substantives are in all about two hundred and twenty-five 
in number and fall, according to case-usage, into three divisions: 
1, those that occur in the accusative only, more than half of all; 
2, those that occur only in the genitive, less than one-third; 
3, those that occur in both the accusative and the genitive, less 
than one-fifth. The classes are distinguished from each other as 
regards the nature of the words only on broad lines. Yet on the 
whole the contrast is striking. In class 1 the presence of two 
kinds of words in particular is to be noticed: such as convey 
notions inherently disagreeable, as ἀδικήματα, ἄλγος, ἄχος, νοσήματα 
and many more, and those that denote a violent, noisy or unex- 
pected sound. The class is largely composed of words that do 
not express sound, but suggest only action, and the absence of 
purely vocal utterances is particularly noticeable. A distinguish- 
ing feature of class 2 is the entire absence of what constituted so 
large an element in class 1, namely, sharp, explosive sounds and 
offensive notions like ἀπειλάς, βδελυρίαν. Sounds are plentiful, but 
they are vocal, musical, and the note of lamentation, a manifesta- 
tion of the recognized melancholy of the Greeks, is not lacking. 
The play of fancy is present in the use of such words as dairés, 
otaxos, and the comic κριθῶν. Throughout, the passivity of the 
situation is felt in the notion of suspension, subordination to an 
influence. Class 3 is interesting in that it is in some measure a 
meeting ground of the other two classes and illustrates the facility 
with which the Greek turns from the one construction to the 
other according as he sees in the word at the moment the notion 
of a mere fleeting action, or that of an unexplored territory which 
engages his attention. The class is of heterogeneous composi- 
tion, as witness νόμος and κτύπος. The latter word occurs twice in 
Homer: 1]. 10, 532, Νέστωρ δὲ πρῶτος κτύπον de, where there is no 
suggestion of preparation for the sound;’ Od. 21, 237, ἢν δέ τις ἢ 


} As serving to emphasize the sharp, clear-cut character of one of the 
words of sound in this list may be cited the striking transfer in Aesch, Sept. 
1o1: κτύπον δέδορκα. κτύπος is probably related to (γ)δοῦπος, which expresses 
the same kind of sound in general and is used only in the accusative with 
a verb of hearing. No other word to which the sense of hearing only is 
properly applicable is found associated with a verb of sight. 


CONSTRUCTION OF VERBS OF SIGHT & HEARING, 27% 


στοναχῆς ἠὲ κτύπου ἔνδον ἀκούσῃς The prospective attitude of the 
subject is foreshadowed in the case as in the setting. The em- 
ployment of νόμος in the genitive with verbs of hearing to denote 
the relation of the governed subject or of the expectant hearer of 
its provisions is too frequent to require special illustration. Plato, 
Legg. 721 D marks the contrast to this in situation and in sense: 
τοῦτον δὴ παρ᾽ ἐκεῖνον τὸν νόμον ἀκούσαντα ἔξεστι περὶ ἑνὸς ἑκάστου διανοη- 
θῆναι. The legislator is spoken of, the cold critic that touches the 
law to create, not follow it. A striking instance of the reversed 
relation, involving the genitive with the participle is found in 
Legg. 839 B. 

The second main division, which comprises substantivized 
neuter adjectives and participles, about seventy in number, shows 
almost invariably the accusative. Among the fifty different ad- 
jectives thus employed the only plural genitives are τῶν ἀγαθῶν 
and τῶν ἐμῶν, and the only singulars are οὐδενός and μηδενός, all of 
rare occurrence. The participles show four genitive forms, all 
plural and with the article, which commonly attends the adjec- 
tives also. This strong drift toward the accusative seems to 
reflect the affinity of the governing verb’s action for the activity 
concealed under the noun form. Of neuter pronominal forms 
the great mass are accusative, but τούτων, τῶνδε, ὧν, and αὐτῶν are not 
uncommon. The only singulars are the interrogatives τοῦ and 
τίνος, once each in Ar. in reference to the future, and one of them 
in a situation of intense anxiety and suspense. 

Among the substantives which stand always in the accusative 
is the word ὄνομα, which occurs several times in both numbers. 
Thus with reference to the verb of hearing, the person, or what- 
ever endowed or conceived as endowed with life represents it, 
stands at the one pole; the name, compressing the personal 
relation within the narrowest possible limits, at the other. Plato, 
Protag. 311 E, shows the higher form reduced to the grade of the 
lower: τί ὄνομα ἄλλο ye λεγόμενον περὶ IIpwraydpov ἀκούομεν, ὥσπερ . + . 
περὶ ‘Opnpov ποιητήν; 

Bgvair ACADEMY. ΤΑΜῈ5 WILLIAM KERN. 


WPS nh 
Kuda ti 


at) Ley: ih ἢ . 1 


Mea Mier! 
ΘΚ 
ἀν ἡ ἦν 

Ὁ 


Mi, ᾿ i 
at ΜΝ Ἷ ay A 
ic pi ny) 
CH ἢ 
i 


ae 


\ 





THE SCENIC VALUE OF THE MINIATURES IN 
THE MANUSCRIPTS OF TERENCE. 


For sources of information concerning the manners of the 
Roman stage, it has been usual to cite above all the literary 
record of Quint. (Inst. Or. xi, 3, 65 ff.) and certain scholia of 
the Donatus Commentary on Terence along with the testimony 
from ancient art, including notably the scenes of the Pompeian 
wall-pictures and the miniatures of the illustrated manuscripts 
of Terence. Accurate knowledge, however, concerning this inter- 
esting subject is in nowise commensurate with the variety and 
apparent richness of the material. The pictures that are placed 
at the beginning of each scene in the illustrated manuscripts,’ 
represent the actors as they appear at some critical point in the 
action and the different series, unmistakably related, are all 
referred to an older original, which is supposed to approach in 
date the period of the Terentian presentation. Arguments for the 
antiquity of the tradition have been found in the possibility of 
identifying many of the gestures shown with those described by 
Quintilian (1. c.); inthe general harmony between the pictures and 
certain situations assigned in the Donatus Commentary, in which 
the scholia touching stage direction are commonly thought to be 
excerpts older than the time of Donatus ;? and in the close resem- 
blance which they bear, in action and technique, to the Pompeian 
wall-scenes. Leo (I. c., p. 342), considering the last point to be of 
special importance, places the original after the appearance of 
the Jmagines of Varro—Rome’s oldest illustrated book (cf. Pliny, 
N. H., xxv, 2. 11) which was published about 39 before Christ— 


1 The group is represented by four MSS, CFPO, with approximately 
complete series of pictures, and by three unimportant fragments (cf. Leo, 
Kh. M. 38, p. 336, n. 2, and Sittl, Die Gebard, der Griech. ἃ. Rom. Leipz. 
1890, p. 204). Following Hoeing (Codex Dunelmensis of Terence, Johns 
Hopk. Univ. Diss., 1898, p. 311, n. 3), I designate the Dunelmensis O 
(Oxoniensis), since it may not be called D for fear of confusion with the 
Victorianus, 

2? Sittl (1. c., p. 203) holds the contrary view. 


18 


274 JOHN W. BASORE. 


and before the destruction of Pompeii. Pease ingeniously argues 
(Trans. Amer. Phil. Assoc., 1887, p. 40) that the editor of the 
archetype of the P family must have taken his illustrations from 
a very old manuscript, which did not belong to the Calliopian 
recension, since the division into scenes is often different’ and 
the order of plays has been changed, presumably to that of the 
ancient illustrated edition (And., Eun., Heaut., Ad., Hec., Phor.). 
Since the actors are shown with masks, the originals must in any 
case be assigned to the post-Terentian period (cf. Diomed. p. 489 
and Cic. de Or. III, 221).? 

By the same radical estimate which at once rejects the value of 
the Donatus “ Gestenscholien” for the ancient stage and disputes 
the reliability of the tradition preserved in the illustrated manu- 
scripts, Sittl (1. c., p. 205) eliminates from consideration two 
principal sources of information. Thus, in a treatise from which 
much might be expected, he is permitted to contribute but little 
upon the matter of comic gesture. While recognizing an older 
original for the miniatures and a measurable amount of accuracy 
in the reproduction of masks and costume, he considers them 
unauthoritative as far as the portrayal of ancient gesture is con- 
cerned, because the copyist is surmised to have introduced the 
customs of his own period. 

“ Die Bilder,” he asserts, ‘‘ gehéren ihrer kunstgeschichtlichen 
Stellung nach nicht zu einer antiken Technik, sondern zu der im 
neunten Jahrhundert entwickelten Gattung der Federzeichnungen, 
welche gerade in den Bewegungen einen derben Realismus auf- 
weisen. Daher ist in den Terenzbildern die antike Zeichentradition 
der Gebarden verlassen und das tagliche Leben (z. B., erwahnte 
italienische Gewohnheit, die Fingerspitzen zusammenzulegen) 
nachgebildet.” 

From the close relation of ancient comedy to the customs of 
real life it may be supposed that the system of gesticulation 


1A, Mai, in an autograph prefixed to Εἰ, notes a picture at Heaut. 3. 3. 
32, (reproduced in his M. Accii Plauti frag. inedita, etc., Med. 1815, p. 
47), wanting in C, (neither is it in P), and on the other hand C has one at 
Heaut. 5.2, omitted in both Fand P. F leaves a space; P makes no pro- 
vision for its insertion, merely indicating the rdles in red capitals. Were 
such devised by the copyist ? 

? Other opinions concerning the date are given in Wieseler, Theater- 
gebaude u. Denkm. des Bihnenwes. bei den Griech, u. Rém., Gott. 1851, 
p- 63. 


MINIATURES IN THE MANUSCRIPTS OF TERENCE, 275 


employed on the comic stage was lacking in a highly developed 
artificiality.’ 

The dilettante effort of Canon Andrea de Jorio (La mimica 
degli antichi investigata nel gestire napolitano, Napoli, 1832), who 
sought to interpret the gestures of ancient art and those described 
in writings, by the modern gesticulation of the Neapolitans, has, 
in addition, furnished some good evidence that the general sys- 
tem of gesture once prevailing in ancient Italy is substantially the 
same as now observed. Mr. Mallery’ further, commenting on 
the similarity of the merely emotional gestures and attitudes of 
modern Italy to those of the classics, compares very aptly the 
attitude of a pulcinella, drawn from life in the streets of Naples, 
with the characteristic abandon in limb of the fawning, clownish 
servus of the Vatican Terence. A highly wrought realism, 
therefore, and the marks of later Italian life do not foree the con- 
clusion that these did not exist in the older period. It remains 
true, however, that the value of the pictures for critical purposes will 
depend not only upon their claims to an older original, but also 
upon the faithfulness with which this is represented in the later 
manuscript-drawings, and the opinion of Sittl is pertinent in sug- 
gesting the need of evidence for the latter. 

With a stable basis of investigation, the method of Leo, who 
identified in the miniatures many of the gestures described by 
Quintilian, might be further employed with interesting results ; 
but even apart from such identification, the variety and complete- 
ness of the situations portrayed,—with the constant possibility of 
interpretation by the accompanying text—must always insure for 
the collection a distinct and unique value in the estimate of 
scenic action. 

Gesticulation as the accompaniment of speech is characteristic of 
the southern blood, and, among the Italians, the play of the fingers 
as a means of interpretation, is a matter of familiar observation. 
In the Terence miniatures the prominence given to the disposition 


1 Compare for example Quint. Inst. Or. II, 10.13 Actores comici... 
neque ita prorsus, ut nos vulgo loquimur, pronuntiant, quod esset sine 
arte neque procul tamen a natura recedunt, quo vitio periret imitatio, sed 
morem communis huius sermonis decore quodam scaenico exornant. 
See also Donat. Comment. de Comoedia, p. ὃ (Reiff.). 

Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology, 1879-80, Wash. 1881, p. 292, 
Fig. 73. 


276 JOHN W. BASORE. 


of the fingers is very striking, and it is probable that, after the 
introduction of masks upon the stage, the fingers were taxed to 
an unusual degree, but in accordance with a set system,’ to make 
clear much that might otherwise have been disclosed by facial 
expression.? Since in all the manuscripts the general grouping, 
action and postures are sufficiently identical to establish the 
unmistakable relation of the different series, it is in these less 
obtrusive gestures that the marks conjectured by Sittl or the 
careless divergencies from a copy might be discovered. To this 
end a comparison of all the manuscripts which show most clearly 
the supposed ancient tradition in the smaller matters of the play 
of the fingers and the hands will be significant in determining the 
accuracy with which this tradition has actually been preserved. 
It therefore becomes necessary to speak in greater detail of the 
published forms in which the pictures have been available. Only 
those of the Vatican MS are accessible in complete series. 
These, imperfectly published, first by De Berger (Comment. de 
personis vulgo larvis seu mascheris, etc., Francof. et Lips. 1723), 
and later in two Italian editions (Fortiguerra, Urbini 1736, and 
Cocquelines, Rome 1767), are manifestly inaccurate. A marked 
difference in the representation of gestures is to be observed, and 
Cocquelines, the best of the three, where pictures are wanting for 
the division of scenes accepted by him, devises such as are con- 
sidered fitting for the situation.° 


Cf. Quint. Inst. Or. xi, 3. 103 a peregrinis scholis tamen prope recepta 
tremula scaenica est. 

2 The school-rules elaborated by Quint. for the orator and the attention 
paid to the matter by other writers whose works are lost (e. g. Plotius and 
Nigidius, cf. Quint. xi, 3. 43), emphasize the importance with which it was 
regarded. 

3 Andr. 1. 3 is typical, with the note: “In codice Bibliothecae Vat. 
nulla his visitur actoris persona... nos vero... Davi personam insculpi, 
et ad servandam nostra in editione uniformitatem poni curavimus.”’ 

The Vatican picture of Mysis, and Davus with the child, v. 716 Dz., is 
inserted at v. 722 and the figure of Mysis supplied for the scene at v. 716. 
(P and C are alike; F lacks Andria.) In like manner elaborate pictures 
are devised for Andr. 5. 1=v. 820, and for 5.2—v. 842. (In P spaces 
appear, but no picture.) At Andr. 5. 5 v. 957 the figures of Pamphilus 
and Charinus are found (P adds Davus) ; at Ad. 3, 6=v. 511 the figure 
of Hegio appears; at Ad. ν, 882 the picture of Syrus and Demea is 
repeated from the preceding scene. Contrasting Fortiguerra and Coc- 


MINIATURES IN THE MANUSCRIPTS OF TERENCE. 277 


Most accurate in technique, but giving only isolated pictures, 
are the facsimiles of D’Agincourt (Histoire de l’art par les monu- 
ments, Paris 1823, T. 5, Pl. 35 and 36).' These, with the photo- 
graphs of the Phormio included in the Harvard edition of the 
play (Cambridge, 1894), supply the only reliable copies of C. 

In the case of P, Madame Dacier has said much that is inter- 
esting, but Picart’s execution of those pictures which her 
enthusiasm required for her translation of Terence (Amsterdam, 
1724), depicts the actors performing in edifices of modern con- 
struction and may thus be duly estimated. Faithful reproductions 
are published by Chatelain (Paléog. des class. lat. pl. vii, Andr. 1. 5 
and Ad. 3. 3) and by Champollion (Paléog. des class. lat. pl. iv, 
Eun. 2. 3). 

F has had even less notice. A. Mai (M. Accii Plauti fragment. 
inedita, etc., Med. 1815) gives (pp. 51 and 61) the masks to the 
Ad.and Phor., and (p.47) the picture at Heaut. 3. 3.32 (= ν. 592 
Dz.), for which C makes no provision.? Chatelain’s specimen 
page of the manuscript (I. c., pl. viii) shows the scene at Ad. 3. 4. 

The last of the group, the Dunelmensis, shows unmistakable 
traces of mediaeval influence. The figures are larger and coarser 
than those of the general type, grotesque and clownish, with 
fingers disproportionately long and conspicuous, and inferior 
artistic ability is everywhere evident (cf. Hoeing, 1. c., p. 313). 

It thus appears that the Vatican apparatus is useless for a full 
grouping of typical gestures and that for the information which 
is desirable concerning F and P recourse must be had to the 
manuscripts themselves. The results therefore of a comparison 
which sought for detailed evidence of a copy common to both, 


quelines, the prologus of the Phormio in the former does duty in the latter 
for the Hecyra. Similarly the aedicu/ae of the Eunuchus and the Hecyra 
are exchanged. At Heaut. 4. 3 v. 723, in a group of five figures, one 
shows the order, Bacchis, Clinia, Phrygia, Dromo, Syrus; in the other the 
order is Syrus, Dromo, Clinia, Bacchis, Phrygia. It will be observed that 
we have here not a mere matter of substituting designations of the figures. 
In one, the first figure is a female; in the other,a slave. Other similar 
matters might be noted. 

1 These show, besides a series of grotesque masks, the scenes at Andr. 
1.53 4-33; Prologus Phor.; Phor. 2,4; Eun. 2.1; 4.7; Heaut.1.1 [all 
reproduced in Wieseler (1. c., Taf. v. and x.) ]. 

* Reproduced in the edition of Giles (Lond, 1837) and in Wieseler (I. c., 
Taf. v. 29 and x. 9). 


278 JOHN W. BASORE. 


will be partially indicated below. The first example will illustrate 
both the correctness of the method suggested and the caution 
to be observed in the use of the pictures. 

A common gesture among modern Italians for scoring points 
as they are successively presented in discourse, as it were the 
commas of speech, is that made by placing together the tips 
of the thumb and first finger, approximating a circle, the others 
being carelessly relaxed or elevated. This position seems indi- 
cated by Quint. xi, 3. 101 pollici proximus digitus mediumque, 
qua dexter est, unguem pollicis summo suo iungens, remissis 
ceteris, est et approbantibus et narrantibus et distinguentibus 
decorus. Jorio (I. c., p. 86) shows that this gesture was also a 
Neapolitan sign for inquiry, and he mentions another, which 
differs but a little in the disposition of the unemployed fingers, 
and which was used in the sense of “good!” (cf. Quint. I. c., ‘‘appro- 
bantibus’”’). Beda (De computo vel loquela digitorum, p. 256, 81, 
ed. Sittl), quoting Hieronymus, gives evidence that in antiquity 
the elements of the same gesture made up the sign for marriage, 
“Triginta referuntur ad nuptias; nam et ipsa digitorum con- 
iunctio quasi molli osculo se complectens et foederans, maritum 
pingit et coniugem.” This practically is one of the few out of 
the large number of gestures described by Rabelais, the signi- 
ficance of which is explained. Nazdecabre (Pantagruel Bk. III, 
ch. xx) is described as having elevated his left hand,’ the fingers 
retained ‘fistways closed together’, except the thumb and the 
forefinger the nails of which ‘he softly joined and coupled to one 
another’. “1 understand,” quoth Pantagruel, “ what he meaneth 
by that sign. It denotes marriage.”’* The position, formed 
however upon the right hand, seems indicated also by Apuleius 
(Met. IV, 28) where the adorers of Venus are shown “ad- 
moventes oribus suis dexteram primore digito in erectum polli- 
cem residente.”’ 

With these literary notices of a gesture which is still perpet- 
uated in Italian custom as a sign of love (Jorio, l.c., p. 46) and 


1 It should be noted that St. Jerome’s symbol for thirty is made on the 
deft hand, Cf. Beda (1. c. ὃ 5), trecenta in dextera, quemadmodem triginta 
in laeva, 

2 J’ entends, dist Pantagruel, ce qu’il praetend par cestuy signe. 1] denote 
mariage; et d’abondant le nombre trentenaire, scelon la profession des 
Pythagoriens. Vous serez marié. 


MINIATURES IN THE MANUSCRIPTS OF TERENCE. 279 


in the other significations noted, its frequent occurrence in the 
Terence miniatures is most interesting; but these miniatures are 
of but little use in determining its scenic value, when it is found 
from the collected instances as shown by the Vatican reproduc- 
tions and F and P, that no strict uniformity is preserved in the 
dramatic situations to which the gesture is assigned. The prints 
of Cocquelines and De Berger differ much as F and P; out of 18 
instances of the gesture in the latter, Cocquelines has only 14. 
F. and P agree in giving it to Pythias (Eun. 4.5 =v. 727); 
Thais (Eun. 4. 6=v. 739); Parmeno (Eun. 5. 8=v. 1031); 
Chremes (Heaut. 3. 3 =v. 562); Hegio (Ad. 3. 4= Vv. 447); 
Demea (Ad. 5. 6= Vv. 889); Laches (Hecy. 4. 2=v. 577); 
Laches (Hecy. 4. 3=v. 607); Demipho (F) = Chremes (P) 
(Ph. 4. 3 = v. 606). 

In F the fingers are often shown merely tending together, and 
at Eun. 4. 5, the thumb and third finger, instead of the first, are 
involved; at Eun. 5.8 (9), the second and the thumb are em- 
ployed. P shows it, besides for Parmeno, for both Thraso and 
Gnatho, (Eun). 5. 8 (9); for Chaerea (Eun. 5. 10 = v. 1049), and 
for Philotis (Hecy. 1.1= v.58). F alone has it for Gnatho 
(Eun. 4.7 =v. 771); Bacchis (Heaut. 2. 4 = v. 381) whereas in P, 
she holds a small object between the fingers; Demea (Ad. 5. 4 = 
v. 855); and Geta (Ph. 2. 3 =v. 348). 

By an examination of the situations in which the manuscripts 
show the gesture in common, the conclusion that it was charac- 
teristically a sign of interrogation or inquiry was drawn apart from 
other information concerning its significance. Some instances 
possibly exemplify the attitude described by Quintilian as that 
of an “approbans” or “‘distinguens.”’ * 


1 Chaerea (Eun. 5, 10 = v. 1049) and Demea in the monologue (Ad. 5, 4ΞΞ 
vv. 855 to 881) are cited by Jorio (I. c., p. 49) as instances of the sign of 
“love’’, The MSS C F P, however, do not divide at v. 882, as do the 
published pictures which the canon used, so that in the manuscript picture, 
which shows both Demea and Syrus,a critical situation is portrayed in the 
longer passage of vv. 855 to 889, and the gesture may naturally be assigned 
to the excited inquiries of Demea v. 883. In the Eun. passage, Chaerea’s 
part is a minor one; he is prominent only inthe latter part of the scene, 
where his words show Quintilian’s “approval’’. Cf. v. 1086, ac lubenter ; 
v. 1087, placet. He is also shown as addressing Gnatho (cf. the text). 
Furthermore, one should expect the /e/t hand to be used in the sign for 
love. 


280 JOHN W. BASORE. 


Reviewing the situations involved in the instances presented by 
F and P in common, the value of the gesture is, in most cases, 
clear. 

At Eun. 4. 5 =v. 727, the two figures of Chremes and Pythias 
are shown. The youth enters from the left, uncertain in gait and 
speech after a drunken debauch, while Pythias propounds eager 
interrogatories, gesticulating with the right hand. Compare v. 733, 
Anabiit iam a milite? v.735, nil dixit, tu ut sequerere sese? v. 736, 
Eho, nonne id sat erat ? 

Eun. 4.6 =v. 739. Pythias on the right, in pose of rest, sup- 
ports a casket on the left arm. Thais appears from the opposite 
side inveighing against Thraso. 

In v. 753 the girl has been dispatched for the casket of tokens, 
and since she now is seen with the box in hand, the grouping 
depicted evidently belongs in the latter part of the scene. The 
action of Chremes, too, who, on the point of exit, looks back over 
his shoulder at the mevretrix is indicated at v. 763. Thais seems to 
use the gesture to punctuate a series of arguments that Chremes 
should bestir himself against Thraso for the possession of the 
girl in her charge. ‘Consider this further,” says she (v. 759), 
“your rival is a foreigner, with less influence, fewer friends, is less 
known.” 

Eun. 5. 8 (9) =v. 1031. Chaerea, who, as he enters, exclaims 
joyfully at his good fortune, “O populares, ecquis me hodie vivit 
fortunatior?” is the object of interest. The three other figures 
Parmeno, Thraso and Gnatho, are evidently curious to know the 
cause of such extreme joy. Parmeno who is nearest the youth 
questions apart (v. 1034), ‘‘ Quid hic laetus est ?”’? 

The scene at Heaut. 3. 3 =v. 562, is marked by Chremes’s 
rapid questioning, first of Clitipho then of Syrus, as to the latter’s 
design hatched up for Menedemus. The dialogue is largely 
between Chremes and Syrus who is advancing towards him, and 
the attitudes of the two point to the latter part of the scene 
in which comes the chief contribution to the plot of the play as 
the slave reveals his plan. Chremes interrupts with inquiries at 
Vv. 595 (twice), 596, 597, 598, 602, 605, 606, 607, 611, 612, 613. 

Ad. 3.4 =v. 447. Geta stands in the centre in an attitude of 
excitement, strained and comical, having disclosed to Hegio his 


1De Berger gives the sign to all three; Cocquel. only to Thraso; F and 
P only to Parmeno. 


MINIATURES IN THE MANUSCRIPTS OF TERENCE. 281 


family’s woes consequent upon Aeschinus’ desertion. The old 
man here employs the gesture, and with figure and eyes afire, 
bursts into the impassioned exclamation ‘‘ Pro di immortales, 
facinus indignum, Geta, quod narras!”’ (vv. 447-48). 

Ad. 5.6=v. 889. In a short scene between Demea and 
Geta,’ the old man plays the affable, with complimentary expres- 
sions to the slave reinforced by the gesture. (Cf. Quintilian’s 
“approval”.) ‘Geta, hominem maximi preti te esse hodie 
ijudicavi animo meo,” etc. (vv. 891-97). 

Hecy. 4. 2=v. 577). Sostrata in a dialogue with Pamphilus 
reveals her resolution to retire into the country in order to 
remove the fancied obstacle to her son’s happiness. Laches 
(unnamed in F), who takes no part in the dialogue, stands on 
one side overhearing it (cf. the next scene v.607: Quem cum istoc 
sermonem habueris, procul hinc stans, accepi, uxor) and seems 
to indicate by the gesture his secret approval which is openly 
expressed in the following scene (cf. 4. 3, v.610). In this F and P 
again show him with the gesture, while in the Vatican prints it is 
unfittingly transferred to Sostrata. 

Ph. 4. 3 =v. 606. Geta and the third figure of the group, 
including besides the slave, Antipho and two old men, are the 
engaging figures. The fourth figure with the gesture under 
consideration, is called by F, Demipho, by C and P, Chremes, a 
variation which introduces difficulties in the proper use of the 
text. The threatening attitude, however, of the third figure 
seems to make it certain that this figure represents Demipho 
(so C and P), at the climax of the scene, where Geta reveals that 
he has promised to the parasite, with hardihood unwarranted, a 
sum of money for which his master is to be responsible (vv. 636 ff.). 
All are intent to hear the amount promised, and Chremes at this 
point urges (v. 642), Cedo quid postulat? (v. 643) Quantum? dic. 

A further marked difference between the manuscripts is the 
characteristic substitution by P of the first and second fingers in 
those positions in which F shows the first alone extended, the 
thumb being usually apart. This occurs in the ordinary positions 
of pointing and in others where the fingers seem disposed for no 
special effect.2. The type common in P is designated by Sittl 
(1. c., p. 286, 3) an ear-mark of post-classic art. 


1¥F reverses the names in obvious error. 
*Examples are numerous, For the act of pointing, I cite Eun. 4. 7 


282 JOHN W. BASORE. 


Again, an attitude in the miniatures that is typical in passages 
of soliloquy, usually monologues, is that of the hand directed 
toward the face while the head inclines downward as if to meet it. 
The fingers are variously disposed. In the movement of the hand 
may frequently be discovered the emotional value which Quintilian 
(xi. 3. 103, cf. 96) assigns to it: digitos cum summi coierunt, ad 
os referre, cur quibusdam displicuerit, nescio; nam id et leviter 
admirantes et interim subita indignatione velut pavescentes et 
deprecantes facimus. P and F, however, show no uniformity 
either in defining the position of the hand or in the disposition 
of the fingers. At Eun. 4. 2 =v. 629 and 4. 3 = v. 643 Phaedria 
is shown in P with the first finger extended, the hand tending 
upwards. In F the first finger rests above the eyebrow. At 
Eun. 5. 1 =v. 817, Thais appears in ΕἾ, advancing with arm 
raised high and with hand compressed and touching her brow. 
The gesture suggests that of striking the forehead, while in P 
her clenched hand merely tends upwards and is removed from 
her face. 

In Eun. 5. 5 = v. 971 Laches, in ΕἾ, has the less pronounced 
gesture; in P, the forefinger extended rests upon the left cheek. 
The same positions are shown in reversed order for Clinia, Heaut. 
2.2=v. 230. At Heaut. 2. 3 = v. 242 the figure named Clinia 
in P (Clitipho in F), with all fingers bent under and hand against 
cheek, seems to be supporting his head. In F he is shown with 
his arm sharply elevated, all his fingers extended, and his hand 
directed toward his face. At Phor. 1. 2 =v. 153 Antipho with 
his arm extended and his right hand uplifted rests his first and 
second fingers on his left brow (F). In P and (Ὁ, the first finger 
alone is extended and touches the left cheek. Similar differences 
appear in the pictures at Eun. v. 942 (Parmeno), Heaut. v. 874 
(Chremes), Ad. v. 364 (Demea); Phor. v. 534 (Geta); v. 766 
(Demipho). 


(Sanga P=Thraso ΕἾ; 5. 4 (Parmeno); Heaut. 1.2 (Clitipho); 4. 1 
(Syrus), pointing downwards; cf. Quint. (xi. 3. 94), versus in terram et 
quasi pronus urguet, For other positions cf, Eun. 5. 6\Pythias); Heaut. 
4.4 (Phrygia F= Bacchis P); 4.8 (Menedemus); 5.3 (Sostrata); Ad.1.1 
(Micio); 2. 1 (Aeschinus); 5. 2 (Dromo); Hecy. 3. 1 (Pamphilus) ; 
Phor. 2. 4 (Demipho) ; 4. 3 (Geta), et saepe. 

The Harvard pictures for the Phor. are much like those of P. 

1 According to the Harvard photographs. 


MINIATURES IN THE MANUSCRIPTS OF TERENCE. 283 


Another gesture, which appears not infrequently, viz. that of 
extended first finger, other fingers bent down, the thumb resting 
on the second, is so variously shown that the type for definite 
situations is destroyed. Thus at Eun. 4.7 = ν. 771 F and Pshow 
it in common for Chremes; at Eun. 5. 5= v. 971, F gives it to 
Parmeno, while in P he is shown with open palms and fingers 
extended. Dromo has it in F at Heaut. 2. 3 = v. 242, while P, 
with the substitution noted above, modifies the gesture by showing 
the first and second fingers out, and the thumb on the third which 
is bent upon the palm. The form which appears here in P may 
be exemplified in both manuscripts at Hecy. 3. 4 = v. 415 (Sosia), 
Reig Vv. 799 (Bacchis), Phor. 4. 1;)=='567) (Chremes) 3:5. 5 =v. 
829 (Antipho). Other numerous instances in which it occurs in 
but one of the two manuscripts clearly define the type, but 
leave unsettled any opinion concerning the correctness of its 
claims. Where it is found in F, P often substitutes the open 
palm and extended fingers, e. g. Ad. v. 447 (Demea); Hecy. v. 
336 (Pamphilus) ; v. 607 (id.); Phor. v. 348 (Phormio). 

Thus far the examples cited have been of characteristic 
gestures selected from different plays; but before drawing a 
conclusion it will be well for the purpose in hand to include a 
comparison of F, P and C (using Cocquelines) at the strikingly 
comical scene of Eun. 4. 7 =v. 771 where the braggart soldier 
comes indignantly with his following to storm the house of Thais. 
This has often been reproduced from the Vatican with varying 
identification of the characters and conflicting explanations.* 
The representations of F and P differ markedly in both attitudes 
and gestures. The first figure on the left, Gnatho, is seen in C 
and P excitedly girding or ungirding a scarf about his waist. 
In F he lifts his right arm aloft, tending to form a circle with his 
thumb and first finger, his left hand being disengaged and all 
his fingers extended. Thraso, the third of the group, advancing 
with action, points with his first finger to the right (F and C). 
P adds also the second finger (cf. above). Donax, the fourth 
figure, in C and P, grasps in his right hand a club-like object 
(the “ vectis”” of v. 774), while the left seizes the scarf (κοσύμβη) 
about his shoulder. Named Simalio in F, the figure is shown 


1 Cf. Wieseler (l.c., Pl. x, Fig. 5; Baumeister (Denk. des kl. Alt. II, p. 38, 
Fig. 914); Schreiber (Atlas of Class. Antiq., Pl. III, Fig. 5); Leo (Rh. M. 


PP- 339-340). 


284 JOHN W. BASORE. 


with the arm lifted high over the head, and the next figure (Donax 
in ΕἼ assumes the “‘vectis”. This figure, in P,is Simalio with 
arm elevated; in C, Syriscus bearing in the right hand a whisk 
(cf. Plaut. Men. vv. 77 and 391). ἢ 

On the right F shows a door between the advancing crowd 
and the mervetrix and Chremes who are within. Syriscus (F 
and P), having reached this point, halts and turns to those 
behind. In P no door appears, but the figure which faces those 
that are advancing, grasps a gourd-like object the end of which 
is held by the figure preceding. C, omitting the door, designates 
here the figure Simalio and represents it much as F. Wieseler 
and Leo have made much of the attitude of Thais who stands 
in C and P as though in deep thought or perhaps careless and 
unconcerned, with her right hand supporting her cheek, the elbow 
resting on the other hand crossed about the waist. In F, how- 
ever, she awaits the storm in pious supplication with hands 
crossed religiously over her breast. 

Certain differences are further to be mentioned in the care 
bestowed upon the aediculae prefixed to the plays, P being 
much superior to F, and both evincing greater elaboration for 
the early plays of the manuscripts. F, after the Heaut., places 
the masks merely upon waving, rough-drawn lines of blue. 
At the Hec. the collection is wholly omitted. Nor is the 
number of masks represented with regularity, F having, for the 
Ad. and Phor., eight each, P, at these places, thirteen. In P 
some of the aediculae are ornamented with birds (so Ad. Hec. 
Phor.), a device popular in the Carolingian Renaissance, and thus 
in itself a mark of the later period. At the Hec. one perches 
above each corner, and a pair is seen in the centre of the gable. 
That on the Adelphi holds a spray in its bill. 

Stage entrances are shown in different forms of square open- 
ings draped or undraped, or with arched tops usually undraped. 
Some appear with lattice-work in the middle. P and F, again, 
are far from uniform both in the type chosen and in the frequency 
with which they are added to the pictures. 

The footgear of the actor is shown by Pand C to be quite 
uniformly the comedian’s soccus laced across the instep and 


1The text (v. 777) assigns to Sanga the peniculus. 
* Cf. Sittl, 1. c., p. 205, ἢ. 3; Janitschek, Die Trierer Ada-Handschrift, 
Leipzig 1889, p. 69 f. 


MINIATURES IN THE MANUSCRIPTS OF TERENCE. 285 


ankle. F, on the other hand, omitting detail, gives the somewhat 
odd effect of the modern sock. Ludicrous exceptions are to be 
noted. The mzles at Eun. 4. 7 has bootlets; at Ph. 2. 3, Geta 
stands with his feet close together, as though in bonds adjusted 
about the ankles; so also at Ph. 4. 2 and at Ph. 2. 4, Cratinus’ 
left foot is drawn with protruding toes. 

In general, the pictures of F are not regular in execution, but, 
as types, exhibit more grace than those of C. All are shaded in 
light blue with ornamental effect. Some are drawn with full, round 
outlines, others are deficient in technique with disregard of proper 
proportions. Those of the Adelphi and Phormio are perhaps 
the best of the manuscript. The early scenes of the Eunuchus 
exhibit an unpracticed hand, while in the later portions and in 
the Heautontimorumenos, the next in order, more regularity may 
be observed. Those of P share the superiority of the manuscript, 
and, though lacking the blue ornamentation of the other, are 
outlined and shaded with good effect in the brownish ink of the 
manuscript. 

The results of our investigation, which has been sufficiently 
illustrated by the matters presented, are such as to warrant, 
conservatively speaking, the conclusion that the pictures do not 
adhere to the supposed original as accurate copies of a fixed model, 
and that in the elaboration of a system of scenic gestures, they 
should deserve credence as representing the older tradition 
only in those particulars in which the testimony of the several 
manuscripts coincides. For depicting general situations and 
bearing, for the nature of the devices and the resources available 
for comic effect, for the characterization of stock réles’ and 
attitudes, and to a certain extent, for the costume, they are of 
undoubted value. 

University oF CALIFORNIA, JOHN W. BASORE. 


1 E. g. the “servus currens”’ is depicted with admirable conformity to 
our testimony as to the stock type of comedy, usually also in the short 
tunic, cf. Donat,, De Com. p. 11 Reiff., servi comici amictu exiguo teguntur 
paupertatis antiquae gratia vel guo expeditiores agant. The type appears 
in Quint. (I. c. 112), servz, ancillulae, parasiti, piscatores, citatius moventur. 
Compare also Ter, Heaut. vv. 31, 124; Eun. 36, e¢ a/.; Donatus, scholia 
to Ad. vv. 299, 324; Phor. 179; Andr. 722; Hecy. 16, 443; similarly in 
Plautus, Acanthio (Merc, vv, 111-119); Leonida (Asin. vv. 290 ff.); Epid- 
icus (Ep. vv. 185 ff.) 


ἫΝ 


Has 
Ὅ ἡ aie 
Rah oe 





PUPULA DUPLEX. 


A Comment on Ovip, Amores I, 8, 15. 


In his Address to the Lena, a conventional theme of the elegiac 

poet, Ovid says of her: 
oculis quoque pupula duplex 
fulminat et gemino lumen ab orbe venit. 

This statement occurs in the usual list of magic feats which all 
lenae were supposed to perform; for everyone knows that the 
business of this indispensable adjunct of an antique love-affair 
included, as a matter of course, the brewing of love-potions and 
the practice of necromancy in all its branches. 

Of course, it is Ovid’s implication that his ‘ Dipsas,’ as he 
expressively calls her, has the Evil Eye. But what would have 
been his definition of a pupula duplex,a double pupil? And why 
was this peculiarity, whatever it may be, esteemed a sign of the 
Evil Eye? Commentators have added nothing of any value to 
the solution of these questions since the time of Burmann.* Of 
the parallels cited by them Pliny, VII, 16 and a passage from 
Ptolemaios Chennos are all that have any bearing upon the point. 

Pliny, VII, 2, 16, says that ‘In this same Africa, according to 
Isigonus and Nymphodorus, are certain families of people possess- 
ing the Evil Eye who cause cattle to die, trees to wither up, babies 
to perish, simply by commending them. Isigonus adds that per- 
sons of the same sort are found among the Triballi and IIlyri. 
These, also, especially if they are angry, charm and kill by their 
gaze whomsoever they look upon for any length of time. Youths 
who have just reached maturity are most easily injured by them. 
More notable still, says Isigonus, is the fact that they have double 
pupils in each eye. According to Apollonides there are also 
women of this sort in Scythia. They are called Bitiae. Phy- 
larchus says that in Pontus there is a race called Thibii and many 


1The latest commentary on the Amores is by Martinon, Paris, Fon- 
temoing, 1897. 


288 KIRBY FLOWER SMITH. 


others who have the same powers. As peculiarities of these 
people he notes that they have in one eye a double pupil, in the 
other the figure of a horse. Even when their garments are 
soaked through they cannot be made to sink in water.’ Cicero 
also, among us, is authority for the statement that all women 
everywhere with double pupils possess the Evil Eye.” 

Pliny refers again to this passage at XI, 142, and Gellius, IX, 
4, 7, gives the substance of it. No other references to the super- 
stition are quoted from Roman authors. It may be observed too 
that, except Cicero, all the authorities cited by Pliny are Greek. 
The eldest, Phylarchos and Nymphodoros, belong to the early 
Alexandrian period. The time of Isigonos must have been 
later as is shown by his use of Nymphodoros. The most 
recent is Apollonides. He lived in the period of the Mithradatic 
Wars. All belong to that class of marvel-mongers familiar to 
everyone who has followed the romantic and novellistic literature 
of later Greece.? This type of popular historian and paradoxo- 
graphos was much read throughout the entire Roman period, and 
perhaps may be said—at any rate in the case of Pliny, who lacked 
the training, not the temperament, of a scientist—to have taken 
the place of that which, under different circumstances, might have 
ripened into more profitable investigation. 

The passage which Pliny quotes from Cicero is not to be 
found in any work of his now extant. But Baiter and Kayser 
(Cicero, Tauchnitz, Leipzig, 1869, vol. XI, p.77) are undoubtedly 
right in ascribing it to the Admziranda. Pliny used the work, 
indeed, quotes it by name at XX XI, 12 and 51 for notices similar 
in character tothis. The title of the Admzranda and, as far as we 
know them, its contents, are so suggestive of “Amora, Παράδοξα, 
Θαυμαστά and similar names given to the books of the Hellenistic 
romancers that we may well believe Cicero’s work to have been 
based directly upon the sources used by Pliny. In fact, it is not 
impossible that, in this particular statement, Cicero merely gener- 
alized where Pliny, more accurate—or more painstaking—gave 


1 This detail is familiar to all who have studied the judicial side of sorcery 
in the Middle Ages. See Grimm, D. 1.4, p. 899; Deutsche Rechtsalt., ΤΙ, 
P- 923; Soldan-Heppe, Gesch. der Hexenprozesse, 1880, 1, 394 f.; Remigius, 
Daemonolatreia, Cologne, 1596, III, 9 (p. 370). 

2 See, for example, Rohde-Scholl, Der Griech. Roman und seine Vorliufer, 
Leipzig, 1900, p. 188 f. 


PUPULA DUPLEX. 289 


his authorities in detail. Finally, if we turn back to our passage 
from Ovid, reminding ourselves of his extraordinary acquaintance 
with the light literature of later Hellenism, we may suspect 
that he, too, drew from a source similar to that used by Pliny and 
Cicero. 

It would be dangerous, however, to conclude that this super- 
stition was not Italic, although with the Latin authors mentioned, 
it has all the air of being the result of reading rather than the 
personal observation of a commonplace superstition near home. 
It is true, moreover, that Pliny’s Greek sources agree in placing 
all actual examples of the double pupil in a remote country. But 
just as the testimonial of a patent medicine seems to flourish best 
in a town remarkable for its distance or obscurity, so the Land of 
Marvels is generally well outside the limits of the known world. 
In both cases the suggestion is very likely to have originated in 
the home of the reporter. For our purpose, therefore, it is quite 
unnecessary to discuss the identity of the ‘Thibii’ and ‘Bitiae’ 
or why and how this idea of a double pupil became connected 
with the various remote and obscure peoples mentioned in Pliny’s 
catalogue. 

We should note, however, the curious statement of Phylarchos 
that his ‘Thibii and many others in Pontus’ have ‘in altero 
oculo geminam pupillam in altero equi effgiem.’ In his edition 
of Pliny, Lyons, 1587, Dalecamp suggested that Pliny had made 
the mistake of taking the word ἵππος, in its literal sense, whereas, 
in fact, it was the regular name given by Phylarchos to a peculiar 
disease of the eye, the most prominent symptom of which, as we 
are told by Hippokrates,’ was a constant trembling and winking 
of the lids. Dalecamp’s explanation was very reasonably ques- 
tioned by later editors of Pliny, Hardouin in particular, but was 
again adopted, without reference to Dalecamp, by Otto Jahn.’ 
But, as Hardouin saw, we could hardly expect Phylarchos to 
couple a simple everyday eye-disease on one side of the Thibian 
and Pontic nose with a miraculous double pupil on the other. 
Moreover, as Riess, A. J. P. XVIII, 195, has well observed, this 
theory, like Miiller’s mythological ‘disease of language’ in a 


1 Galen, 8, 604, F; 732, A. See Thesaurus Steph. s. v. 
2Ueber den Aberglauben des bésen Blicks bei den Alten, 1855, p. 35, 
n. 26. 
19 





290 KIRBY FLOWER SMITH. 


kindred field, really reverses the order of things. ‘The very 
name of the sickness proves that its presence was ascribed to a 
horse-shaped demon.” It is evident, therefore, that in his desire 
of making us quake again Phylarchos has followed a method not 
infrequently observed in writers of his class. He has furnished 
his ‘ Thibii and many others in Pontus’ with a doudle share of 
horrific signs for the Evil Eye. 

We may now turn to an interesting passage from Ptolemaios 
Chennos ἢ who, according to Suidas, would be a younger contem- 
porary of Pliny the Elder. His Καινὴ Ἱστορία, which consisted of 
seven books and is fortunately preserved for us in the abstract of 
Photios, at once stamps him as a mythographer of the semi- 
novellistic type. 

In this work,* according to Photios, Chennos told “that the 
wife of Kandaules, whose name Herodotos does not mention, was 
called Nysia; that, according to report, she was δίκορος (i. &., 
had a double pupil), and extremely sharp of sight, being in 
possession of the stone dpaxovrirns,* and on this account perceived 
Gyges passing out of the door.” 

At first sight we might suspect that this passage is merely a 
piece of Alexandrian embroidery on the famous story of Hero- 
dotos, 1, 8-12. But in his life of Apollonios of Tyana,° Philos- 
tratos, during a long digression on Indian dragons, the manner of 
their capture, etc., observes that the wonderful stone in their heads 
(i. e., the Spaxovrirns) is ‘invincible even against the ring which, 
they say, was possessed by Gyges.” This shows that in the 
version to which Chennos refers and which is that of neither 
Plato’ nor Herodotos, Gyges was not put behind the door, as 
Herodotos tells the story, but, probably without the connivance 


1 For modern instances of the horse-demon as a sign of the Evil Eye, 
Professor Riess refers to an article by Tuchmann in Za Mélusine, vol. IV. 
I have been unable to inspect a copy of this volume. 

2 Persistently quoted by his father’s name of Hephaistion. The title of 
his work is Πτολεμαίου τοῦ ἩΗφαιστίωνος περὶ τῆς εἰς πολυμαθίαν καινῆς ἱστορίας 
λόγ. ζ΄. 

3 Mythographi Graeci, Westermann, p. 192. 

480 Westermann. The word is not foundin L. ἃ 5. (8th ed.). ‘‘ Dra- 
conitis sive Dracontias’’ according to Pliny, XXXVII, 158. Compare 
Solin., XXX, 16, 17; Isidor, XIV, 14, 7; 14, 5,15; Tzetz. Ast. 7, 656. 

5 III, 6 (vol. 1, p. 88, K.). 

6 Repub. ΤΙ, 359, D. 


PUPULA DUPLEX. 201 


of Kandaules, was depending upon his ring—as old Henslowe 
used to describe certain of his theatrical properties—‘‘for to goo 
invisibell.” But against the dragon-stone which, according to a 
world-wide superstition regarding serpents,’ makes its possessor 
all-seeing and all-knowing, even this famous ring was as power- 
less as the hypnotism of the Hindoo juggler in the presence of the 
kodak. 

Chennos is our only authority for the statement that Nysia, as 
he calls her, possessed a double pupil as well as the dragon-stone. 
Moreover, it is to be observed that he uses the idea of the double 
pupil inanewsense. The Evil Eye is not the point here, though 
it may be implied. Nysia derives the same power from her double 
pupil that she already derived from her dragon-stone in infinite 
measure — supernatural sharpness of vision. In other words 
Chennos, like Phylarchos, has doubled his signs of the same 
thing. 

So far as I am acquainted with the commentators on this sub- 
ject we have now reached the end of our resources. As we pause 
to review the situation it becomes clear that we are hardly wiser 
than when we started. The two questions proposed for solution 
are still unanswered. To show how far they have been from an 
answer, let me quote the only two persons who, to my knowledge, 
have ever expressed any opinion on a pupula duplex. 

The first comes from no less a person than Cuvier. He wasan 
associate editor of the Lemaire Pliny, Paris, 1827. At the pas- 
sage already quoted he observes:? ‘Unde haec de pupula 
duplici pervagata opinio, equidem nescio; neque crediderim 
tales unquam in humanitate, etiam monstrosa, oculos visos.” 

The second comes from E. Miiller, PAz7. VII, the main object 
of whose article was to prove that Plato’s story of Gyges and his 
Ring originated ina volcanic myth. Commenting on the word 
δίκορος in the passage from Chennos, Miiller makes the naive sug- 
gestion (p. 254, ἢ. 40) that the wife of _Kandaules “ verschiedenar- 
tige, wie es scheint, nach ganz verschiedener richtung blickende 


1Comp. p. 290, n. 4; Fafnir in the tale of the Volsungs; Bulukiya and 
the Queen of the Serpents, Book of the Thousand Nighis and a Night, vol. 
V, p. 278 (Burton) ; etc., etc. 

2 Vol. III, p. 24. 


292 KIRBY FLOWER SMITA. 


pupillen gehabt habe.” The old legend of Venus Paeta’—if one 
must turn to the books to settle a question like this—makes it 
clear that any Dream of Fair Women is incomplete unless it 
includes at least one with a cast in her eye. But ‘nach ganz 
verschiedener richtung blickende pupillen”! Add this touch of 
description, if you please, to that figure of gleaming white which, 
seen and yet unseen, stands amid the flickering, perfumed shadows 
of the doomed king’s chamber. We have all gazed, with Gyges, 
upon its perilous beauty, we have all shared his mingled emotions 
of rage and fear, shame and delight. 

But, to leave Miiller’s theory for the present, we have, at 
least, discovered that the Greek word for one possessing a pupula 
duplex is Sixopos. It is not found in Liddell and Scott, but the 
Thesaurus gives us three examples, none of which, curiously 

enough, seem to have ever been connected with the discussion of 
_ the double pupil. 

In the Scriptores Physiognomonict, II, p. 225 (Foerster), a pas- 
sage dealing with the color of the eyes as a sign of character, reads 
as follows: ὀφθαλμοὶ μέλανες ἀγαθοῦ σημεῖον εἰ μείζους εἰσίν. ὀφθαλμοὶ 
δίκοροι ἀστάτου γνώρισμα καὶ ἀνυποστάτου, εἰ μάλιστ᾽ ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ ὀφθαλμῷ 
εἰσιν. 

Suidas, 5. v. Δίκορος, tells us that ᾿Αναστάσιος 6 τῶν Ῥωμαίων βασιλεὺς 
Δίκορος ἐλέγετο. Zonaras, XIV, 3, p. 53 (cf. Joh. Mal., p. 392) adds 
that he was so named, ὅτι ἀνομοίας ἀλλήλαις εἶχε τὰς κόρας τῶν ὀφθαλμῶν" 
τῇ μὲν γὰρ ἦν τὸ χρῶμα μελάντερον, ἣ δὲ λαιὰ πρὸς τὸ γλαυκότερον ἐχρωμάτιστο. 

Finally, an old scholium on Thamyris, the minstrel (Iliad, B, 
595 f.), preserved in Eustathios, 298, 44, says, among other things: 
ἱστοροῦσι δὲ αὐτὸν καὶ δίκορον εἶναι, τῶν ὀφθαλμῶν τὸν μὲν γλαυκὸν ἔχοντα, 
τὸν δὲ μέλανα. 

These passages tell us that a δίκορος is a person whose eyes are 
of different colors. Sometimes the difference of colors may be 
found inone eye. More frequently, to judge by modern experi- 
ence, one eye differs in color from the other. This new associa- 
tion for δίκορος, pupula duplex, lets in a flood of light. It removes it 
from that which, to one accustomed to deal with problems of folk- 
lore, might well seem a curiously contracted sphere, and takes it 
into the domain of a world-wide superstition—one might cite the 


1QOvid, 4. A. 2,659; Priap. 36, 4; Varro, Sat. Men. 344 B.; Lucian, 
Dial, Deor. 20, 10; Petron. 68, Fried. 


PUPULA DUPLEX. 293 


single example of Hereward, “last of the English””—according 
to which all persons who show a difference of color in the eyes are 
credited with the power of fascinatio.' 

But what has pupula duplex, dixopos, to do with color? How 
does it happen that two ideas, apparently quite foreign, should 
be associated? Finally, what is a pupula duplex? Before at- 
tempting to answer these questions it may be well to observe 
briefly some aspects of the primaeval and universal superstition 
with which they are connected. 

The Evil Eye’ may be the cause of every ill in mind, body or 
estate that flesh is heir to; briefly, of misfortunes which in 
modern times are covered by insurance, attributed to the weather 
or for which the remedy is sought by recourse to a lawyer, a 
physician or a gun, according to the temperament of the loser. 
Above all, the Evil Eye is responsible for those slow, wasting 
diseases and nervous or mental disorders for which the untutored 
mind can find no explanation in the circumstances of the person 
afflicted. Anyone may be blighted by it, babies in the cradle 
especially. The possessor of it simply has to cast a glance—/a 
gettatura, as the Neapolitans expressively term it —upon his 
chosen victim at some unguarded moment. The etymology and 
historical usage of words like zuvidere, βασκαίνειν and their 
parallels in other languages show that, in the popular conception, 
envy was the principal motive for using the Evil Eye. Never- 
theless there are some unfortunates born with the Evil Eye who 
involuntarily blast all that they look upon. This was the pathos 
of Gautier’s well-known story. The ability to detect the Evil 
Eye isan acquisition of obvious value. There are many rules for it, 
and most of them are common to all folk-lore. Persons with a 
pierc.ng eye who look at you steadily are to beavoided. Persons 
who are cross-eyed, ‘wall-eyed,’ one-eyed or have any other 
marked peculiarity of the eye have always been dreaded. 


1 My friend, Mr. Charles Stafford-Northcote, who lived for nine years in 
the highlands of Ceylon, tells me that the natives, one and all, have the 
utmost fear of anyone who possesses this peculiarity. The same is true 
elsewhere. 

2 The subject has attracted much attention, especially in its connection 
with Phallic worship. One of the best known and most important treatises 
upon it is the work of Otto Jahn, mentioned in note 2, p. 289, For 
ancient and mediaeval authorities, see note 2, p. 295. 


294 KIRBY FLOWER SMITH. 


Witches, werewolves, vampires—the three are often united in 
the same person—possess and use the Evil Eye asa matter of 
course. Indeed, it should be observed that the Evil Eye is very 
frequently accompanied by other powers of an uncanny nature. 
An enquiry into the origin and philosophy of this widespread 
superstition, which was, of course, derived in the first instance 
from the primaeval explanation, whatever it was, of vision, may 
safely begin with the general axiom of folk-lore that the primitive 
man, whose beliefs survive in our superstitions, conceived of no 
manifestation of natural forces or organic life except as due to a 
personality. To him, the causes of all effects are never things or 
laws, but always persons. Those well-known lines of Pope, 


“Lo, the poor Indian whose untutored mind 
Sees God in clouds and hears him in the wind,”’ 


are not only truer, but they must be taken in a more literal and 
homelier sense, than their author had ever supposed. Without 
pausing to mention many other ideas of a similar nature, the ‘poor 
Indian’ is one of those also who see in the eclipse a monster pro- 
ceeding to gulp down quick the god of day, and is much relieved 
when his strenuous efforts in the way of shouting, beating of 
drums, archery practice and such like, have averted the threatened 
calamity. He also knows that the real cause of his chills and 
fever is a devil, that another one of a different sort gives him the 
small-pox. In short, after his own peculiar fashion he believes in 
microbes. Hence the medicine-man prescribes an allopathic dose 
of tom-toms over his patient’s bed while the Chinese practitioner, 
more advanced, pierces the diseased member with needles. The 
object in both cases is to oust the demon. 

The primitive man of all nations accounted for the phenomenon 
of sight and explained the functions of the eye after a similar 
fashion. Nor do we need to consult the lore of the modern 
savage here. Traces of it are clearly visible in the traditional 
discussion of optics found in the earliest Greek and Roman 
thinkers, the Church Fathers and various mediaeval doctors and 
theologians, from the dawn of Hellenic thought to the middle of 
the 17th century. A detailed review of this long discussion, in- 
teresting and curious as it is, would be unnecessary and, more- 
over, is impossible in the space at my disposal. A few points, 
however, may be noted. 


PUPULA DUPLEX. 295 


We shall go far towards understanding the primitive theory of 
sight among the Greeks and Romans if we begin by giving a 
perfectly literal interpretation to the old saying that ‘the eye is the 
window of the soul.’ The expression has been traced to Hera- 
kleitos, but it is repeated or implied in all languages and all 
periods. The same thought, for example, is in the Νοῦς ὁρῇ καὶ νοῦς 
ἀκούει" τἄλλα κωφὰ καὶ τυφλά, that famous verse of Epicharmos' 
which was the emphatic expression of a philosophical dogma and, 
for ages, the text of a philosophical dispute regarding the nature 
of vision.? It is evident moreover, that, in the strictly popular 
conception, the eye was more than the window, it was literally the 
door of the soul.’ 

Still another step back brings us face to face with the belief that 
the soul actually resides in the eye itself, ‘profecto in oculis ani- 
mus habitat,’ to give a literal turn to Pliny’s words (XI, 145), and 
may be seen there in the form of a mannikin. This view explains 
a number of superstitions. It becomes clear, too, that such desig- 
nations of the pupil as κόρη, pupa, pupula, pupilla, i. e. the little 
lass, the mannikin, das mann/ein, though easily explained by a 
different theory in the wisdom of a later age,* undoubtedly go 
back to the time when they were applied in a literal sense to the 
soul which was seen in the man’s eye.’ I would suggest that this 


1See Kaibel, Com. Dor., 249 and references. Add Pliny, XI, 146 
animo autem videmus, animo cernimus, 

2See especially Lucretius III, 359 f. and the long list of references in 
Heinze’s note. Frequently in connection with fascinatio itself. Comp., 
e. g., Plutarch, 680, Cf.; Heliod. Aethiopica ILI, p. 86, B.; Alex. Aphrodis. 
Problem. Sect. 1, 39, 68. 70; II, 53 (vol. I, Ideler),etc. Plentiful reference 
to the Church Fathers and a long line of mediaeval authorities may be 
founc in the detailed discussion by M. Delrio, “de fascinatione,”? Disguis. 
Magicae, Mainz, 1624, Lib. III, Pars I, Quaest. IV, Sect. I. Add P. de 
VAncre, Z’Inucredulité et Mescreance du Sortilege plainement convaincue, 
Paris, 1622, pp. 70-113; Du Laurens, De Opera Anatomica, quaes. 16. 

3See Rohde, Psyche, p. 22,n.1 and p, 692, with ref. Add Physiognom. 
II, p. 17 (Foerster). 

4See, for example, Plato, 4/70. I, 133, A. 

5 κόρη, meaning the pupil of the eye, is notably a favorite with Euripides. 
More than a score of examples are found in the extant plays. For the 
complete list see the Zzdex Graecus of the Glasgow edit., 1829, vol. IX. 
Empedokles, 227, is the earliest example quoted. The word κόρη is still 
used by the modern Greeks in the same sense, On the traditional explana- 
tion of γλήνη in the éppe, κακὴ γλήνη, of Iliad, Θ, 164, see Leaf’s note. 

Latin pupilla survives in Italian. Old French pugille has been replaced 


296 KIRBY FLOWER SMITH. 


theory is the origin, for example, of the old Norse superstition 
that the werewolf when in his bestial form may always be detected 
by his eyes. The eye is the one thing that remains unchanged." 

When one dies, the mannikin, i. e. the soul itself, leaves the 
eye.?. Hence the origin of that immemorial custom of closing 
the open eyes of the dead, closing the door, as it were, upon the 
departed guest and insuring against the possible return of an 
occupant no longer welcome. 

Conversely, though a man be never so ill, there is no immediate 
danger of death as long as the mannikin may be seen. ‘Augu- 
rium ex homine ipso est non timendi mortem in aegritudine, quam- 
diu oculorum pupillae imaginem reddant’ (Pliny, XXVIII, 64). 

On the other hand, in the very midst of health and prosperity, 
the mannikin may disappear. This is a sure sign of impending 
doom. Capitolinus says of the unfortunate Pertinax (14, 2): 
“Et ea die, qua occisus est, negabant in oculis eius pupulas cum 
imaginibus, quas reddunt spectantibus, visas.”’ 

But, even before death and without being a premonition of it, 
the mannikin, in exceptional circumstances, may leave the eye 


by prunelle and survives only as a technical term. See Littré. Old 
Spanish gugila has been replaced, and the idea preserved, by New Span. 
nina. Descansar la nina del ojo is quoted as Cuban Spanish for ‘Take a 
nap.’ Eng. ‘pupil’ has the same history although quite lost upon the 
uneducated speaker. 

Augapfel, augenstern, ‘the apple of the eye’ seems to be the figure in all 
the Teutonic languages. But the Germans say ‘das mannlein im auge’ 
and everyone will be reminded of the ‘babies’ so often mentioned by the 
Elizabethan dramatists and other old English writers. Compare Beaumont 
and Fletcher’s Woman’s Prize, V,1: 


‘““No more fool 
To look gay babies in your eyes, young Rowland, 
And hang about your pretty neck—”’ 


The Macusi Indians of Guiana say that though the body decays the 
“man in our eyes ”’ will not die but wander about. J. H. Bernau, British 
Guiana, p. 134 (quoted by Tylor). 

1W. Hertz, in his famous monograph Der Wehkrwolf, Stuttgart, 1862, p. 
49, n. 2, refers to Maurer, Bekehrung des Norwegischen Stamms, Munich, 
1855, II, p. 105, for examples of this superstition. 

2 Rohde, Psyche, p. 692 and Crusius, on Babrios, 95, 35, Rhein. Mus. 
XLVI, 319, show that this superstition was Greek as well as Latin. Ex- 
amples from Scottish and Anglo-Saxon sources are given in Grimm’s 
Deutsche Mythol.4, p. 988. 


PUPULA DUPLEX. 297 


and, return again. In this connection a story told by P’u Sung- 
Ling, a famous Chinese author and scholar of the 17th century, 
deserves our attention. 

Fang-Tung was a good scholar but an unprincipled rake who 
followed up and spoke to every woman he saw. One time he 
caught sight of a beautiful girl going by ina carriage and followed 
it for a long distance, staring at her. Finally, the girl’s maid, 
taking a handful of dust, threw it at him and blinded him. 

Upon examination the doctor found on the pupils a small film 
which, in a few days, became as thick as a cash. On the right 
pupil there came a kind of spiral and no medicine was of any 
avail. Mr. Fang then betook himself to repentance and religious 
meditation. At the end of a year, being now in a state of perfect 
calm, he heard a small voice, about as loud as a fly’s, calling out 
from his left eye: “15 horribly dark in here.” To this he 
heard a reply from the right eye, saying, “Let us go out fora 
stroll, and cheer ourselves up a bit.” Then he felt a wriggling in 
his nose—as if something was going out each of the nostrils ; and 
after a while he felt it again, as if going the other way. After- 
wards he heard a voice from one eye say, “1 hadn’t seen the 
garden for a long time,” etc. 

Mr. Fang related the matter to his wife and she concealed her- 
self inthe room. ‘She then observed two tiny people, no bigger 
than a bean, come down from her husband’s nose and run out of 
the door ... Ina little while they came back and flew up to 
his face ... After some days Mr. Fang heard from the left 
eye, “This roundabout road is not at all convenient. It would be 
well for us to make a door.” To this the right eye answered, 
“My wall is too thick ; it wouldn’t be at all an easy job.” “Tl 
try and open mine,” said the left eye, ‘‘and then it will do for 
both of us.” Whereupon Mr. Fang felt a pain in his left eye as 
if something was being split, and in a moment he found he could 
see.’ His wife examined his eye and ‘discovered an opening in 
the film, through which she could see the black pupil shining out 
beneath, the eye-ball itself looking like a cracked pepper-corn. 
By next morning the film had disappeared and when his eye was 
closely examined it was observed to contain two pupils. The 

Spiral on the right eye remained as before: and then they knew 
that the two pupils had taken up their abode in one eye. Further, 
although Mr. Fang was still blind of one eye, the sight of the 
other was better than that of the two together had formerly been.’ 


208 KIRBY FLOWER SMITA. 


H. A. Giles, the translator (‘Strange Stories from a Chinese 
Studio,’ London, La Rue, 1880, vol. I, p. 8), adds in a note: 
“The belief that the human eye contains a tiny being of the 
human shape is universal in China ... ” 

It will be seen that in this story the idea of the mannikin is 
further extended. It is itself the sight of the eye and has an 
entity separate from that of the man. We also have here an 
instance of the double pupil and the Chinese explanation of it. In 
the Occident, at least so far as we are now concerned, the absence 
or obscuration of the mannikin during a man’s lifetime has a 
different meaning and is best taken up in another connection. 

The soul, the real self, that dynamic part of every person 
which is of kin with the dangerous and unmeasured forces of the 
other world, dwells in the eye. Otherwise how could we see? 
Here, in fact, it may actually be observed by any one in the form of 
an homunculus. Naturally, then, any influence, at all events, any 
spiritual influence, exerted by the individual must necessarily 
come from the same source. Nor should we forget that this 
idea received ample support from the primaeval observation of 
certain natural phenomena, for example, the power of the serpent 
to charm its chosen victims, the hypnotic power of the human 
VEC, ELC εἴς: 

The light which this primitive theory of vision appears to 
shed upon the doctrine of fascinatzo is in itself a strong proof 
that the two are closely connected. Once granted, for example, 
—and, certainly, such was the theory of primitive man—that the 
homunculus, the real personality, dwells in the eye, it was inevit- 
able to suppose that the appearance of that dwelling should 
betray and reflect the character of its occupant.’ This will 
explain why it is that among all nations every marked peculiarity 
or defect of the eyes is thought to be a proof of the Evil Eye. 

Having reached this point we find ourselves face to face with 
the doctrine of possession. Any part of aman may be possessed, 
especially the part that aches, but if the real man, the director, 


1 Especially, in view of the undoubted fact that the eye actually does 
play an important part in the determination of character and temperament 
by the physiognomy. So too the universal idea that the body reflects in a 
visible form the character of its occupant is certainly responsible for the 
fact that in art, tradition and literature all demons and evil spirits have 
been misshapen and ugly since the world began. 


PUPULA DUPLEX. 299 


has been possessed—or dispossessed—we must, of course, expect 
to find the evidence of it in the eye, if anywhere, because the eye 
is his abode. In such cases, the Evil Eye and the defect which 
marks it are both caused by the fact that the possessor is himself 
possessed. Thus we, at once, understand that large class of 
apparently anomalous cases in which the possessor of the Evil 
Eye inflicts damage quite against his will and, indeed, may even 
suffer from it himself as well as those about him. 

The homunculus, except at death or the premonition of it, does 
not leave the eye unless driven out by the intrusion of a superior 
power which usually takes his place. Hence in German folk-lore 
(Grimm, D. 77), p. 898): ‘Ein mensch, in den holden gezaubert 
sind, ist erkennbar daran, dass man in seinen augen kein mann- 
lein oder kindlein (κόρη, pupa) sieht, oder nur ganz triibe.” In 
other words the man himself is really absent or, at least, under a 
charm. SoofPliny’s horse-demon and the frog’s foot observed by 
Pierre de l’Ancre.' In short, any peculiarity of the eye may be 
traceable to the same cause. 

The pupula duplex can now speak for itself. The δίκορος is a 
person who has two mannikins instead of one. In such cases, 
the demon-mannikin—and the case of Nysia shows that at least 
one of them was a demon—does not oust the legitimate occupant, 
but the two live side by side either in the same eye or in different 
eyes. The presence of the uncanny intruder is betrayed by the 
difference in color. If, therefore, δίκορος means two colors in the 
same pair of eyes it is only because the word contains what was 
originally the popular explanation of that peculiarity. Moreover, 
we can now explain why the δίκορος should have supernatural 


1 Zableau de Vinconstance des mauvais Anges, etc., Paris 1612, p. 184: 
“Une fille nous a dict (de l’Ancre, who was ‘conseiller du Roy au Parle- 
ment de Bordeaux’, was hunting witches at the time) qui faisoit semblant 
de cognoistre les sorciers et sorcieres au premier trait d’oeil qu’elle jettoit 
sur eux, que toutes celles de Biarrix estoient marquees en 1’oeil gauche, 
d’une marque semblable a une patte de crapaud ... .’’ Afterwards, he 
made use of this valuable discovery (p. 188): ‘‘Le 3 Septembre 1610 ils 
[la Grande Chambre] m’appellerent pour voir si ie recognoistrois la 
marque dans l’oeil a une ieune fille de dix-sept ans: ie la recognus des 
Ventree de la Chambre, et dy qu’elle l’avoit dans l’oeil gauche, le quel 
estoit aucunement louche et egaré et plus hagard que l’autre: on regarda 
audedans, on y trouva comme quelque petit nuage qui sembloit une patte 
de crapaud, etc.’? See also Grimm, D. 47.4, 903-4. 


300 KIRBY FLOWER SMITA. 


powers of vision. Gyges might, indeed, escape the notice of 
Nysia herself but no one would venture to assert that her 
demon-xépy could be deceived by a ring of darkness. He, 
or—who knows—possibly she, could “perceive Gyges passing 
out of the door” and immediately reported the matter to head- 
quarters. ; 

Whether ' δικορία᾽, if not too pronounced, is a blemish to beauty 
I leave to the more extensive experience of my readers. Cer- 
tainly Ptolemaios Chennos never meant to imply it and, for one’s 
own part, it is not unpleasant to feel that, whatever else they 
may have inherited, the Mermnadae were in no danger of inher- 
iting eyes of “ganz verschiedene richtung” from one who is 
not only the central figure in a masterpiece of the great story- 
teller, but who, we are convinced, still deserves the place among 
those ot milia formosarum which has been given her by every 
reader of the tale of Kandaules. 

Last of all, turning back to Ovid’s lines quoted at the beginning 
of this paper, we may assert that the dictionaries are mistaken 
in telling us that his word orde means the eye. It means the 
pupil. Moreover, if my explanation of δίκορος is correct, the 
indefiniteness of Ovid’s orée is of such a character, the Roman 
references to a double pupil are of such rarity and from a sphere 
so limited, literary, and foreign, as almost to make one suspect 
that their authors had simply translated δίκορος by pupula duplex 
and set it down as another wonder of the world, without knowing 
what the word really meant, and possibly without connecting it in 
any way with that familiar phenomenon which δίκορος itself in no 
way suggested but of which it had once been the explanation. 


Jouns Hopkins UNiversirty. KIRBY FLOWER SMITH. 


INGENIUM IN THE ABLATIVE OF QUALITY 
AND THE GENITIVE OF QUALTIY. 


Several conclusions reached in a recent investigation of the 
constructions of the Ablativus et Genitivus Qualitatis may receive 
notable illustration from the instances furnished by the use of the 
noun zzgenzum. From the nature of the quality which this noun 
expresses and from the antiquity, persistency and frequency of its 
occurrence arises the fact that almost no other illustration is so 
valuable. 

That the list of instances available for citation in this discussion 
does not include all that occur in Latin literature is a matter for 
regret; especially when the entire works of some authors have 
been neglected. Yet the ground actually covered in the previous 
investigation may be fairly regarded as comprehensive enough, 
and the instances as of sufficient scope to yield some degree of 
security for the conclusions which were there drawn. The 
instances under observation include all the examples from the 
following authors: Plautus, Terence, Cato, Varro, Lucretius, 
Caesar, Cicero, Sallust, Vergil’s Aeneid, Livy, Velleius Pater- 
culus, Valerius Maximus, Seneca rhet., Seneca phil., Tacitus, 
Fronto, Justinus, Gellius, Apuleius, Firmicus Maternus, Palladius 
and the Scriptores Physiognomonici. Besides these there are 
many instances from Catullus, Horace, Tibullus, Propertius, 
Ovid, Curtius, Pliny the Elder, Phaedrus, Pomponius Mela, 
Petronius, Statius, Quintilian, Juvenal, Suetonius, Lactantius, 
Eutropius, Aurelius Victor, Scriptores Historiae Augustae, 
Ammianus Marcellinus, Prudentius and other writers. 

Not all of the conclusions reached in my former investigation 
are shown in the usage of any single noun, but the instances of 
ingentum furnish the clearest illustration of the following points: 

1. The frequently observed distinction between the genitive 
as the expression of the permanent characteristic and the ablative 
as the expression of the transient is not sufficiently fundamental 
to govern all the instances. 


302 GEORGE VAIL EDWARDS. 


2. The distinction observed between internal and external 
qualities likewise fails to be established. 

3. The distinction between actual and apparent qualities (cf. 
Kriiger’s Gen. “ wie er ist,” Abl. “wie er sich zeigt’’) is not suf- 
ficiently fundamental. 

4. The distinction between the predicative and the appositional 
use is not sufficient to explain the usage. 

5. In early Latin the ablative construction was as freely used 
as ever in its history, while the genitive was comparatively rare 
and did not reach its full development until after Livy. 

6. By this early prevalence of the ablative its use in certain 
phrases became stereotyped, so that later when, after Livy, so 
many new expressions of quality were being put in the genitive, 
these particular phrases still appeared in their original ablative 
form alone. 

7. In the consideration of these two expressions for quality the 
historical factor is of greater importance than has been anywhere 
recognized. 

The instances of zzgenium which illustrate these points are 
the following: 


Ablatives: Plaut., Aul. 9 (ita avido 1. fuit); Asin. 944 est tam i. 
duro; Bacch. 454 consimili i. est; 615 malevolente i. natus; 1086 
eost i. natus; Merc. 969 sunt i. malo; Most. 206 mulierem lepidam 
et pudico i.; Poen. 1185 ingeniis quibus sumus; Pseud. 137 eo 
enim i. hi sunt; 1134 sunt alio i.; Stich. 116 quae i. est bono; 
Truc. 452 nimio i. sumus; 780 colubrino i. ambae estis; Pacuv., 
frag. trag. 37 (Ribb.*) feroci i.; 254 ferocii.; Ennius, frag. trag. 
23 (Ribb.°*) est tam firmo i.; 326 eo i. natus sum; Terence, Andr. 
487 ipsest i. bono; Heaut. I 51 1. te esse . . leni; 420 i. egregio 
ad miserias natus sum; Eun. 880 inhumano i.sum; Phorm. 497 
i. esse duro te atque inexorabili; Hec. 164 liberali esse i. decet; 
489 fuisse erga me miroi.; Adel. 297 talem, tali i.;' Caec. Stat., 
com. frag. 137 (Ribb.*) habuissem i. si sto amatores mihi;? 
Afran. com. frag. 15 (Ribb.’) i. unico; Sall., Cat. 5, 1 fuit . 
malo pravoque i.; Jug. 7, 4 erat impigro atque acti i:5:(20; (2 is 

. placido i.; 28, 5 acri i.; 46, 3 i. mobili esse; 66, 2 i. mobili 
erat; Cic., Tull. 33 singularii. esse; Verr. 3, 170 homo summo i. ἂν 
summa prudentia, summa auctoritate praeditus; 4, 131 summo 
i. hominem; Leg. Agr. 3, 6 tardo i. esse; Muren. 36 Philippum 
summo i.; 61 summo i. vir; Arch. 31 hominem tanto i.; Flacc. 


1Tali genere, A cum rell., ingenio Bentley. 
2 Variants are, si ston, si isto, si istoc. 


INGENIUM IN ABLATIVE & GENITIVE OF QUALITY. 303 


76 virum singularii.; Har. Resp. 41 quoi.; 57 poeta praestanti 
1 561 1 adulescentem inlustri 1.; 76 adulescentes magno 1. 
de Orat. 1, 95 pari fueris i.; 104 summo hominem i.; 191 homi- 
nem acutissimo omnium i.; 2, 162 acri 1. esse videbatur; 351 
non sum tanto ego, inquit, [ἢ quanto Themistocles fuit.; 3, 124 
acri vir i.; 230 (orator) i. peracri; de Rep. 2, 4 i. esse ‘divino; 
° 18 (homines) praestantibus ingeniis; de Leg. 2, 46 qui modo 
. possit moveri;’ pro Ligar. 1 praestanti Wits J ; Brut. 125 vir 
Be tadtiesimo ἰ; 130 acuto i. fuits 186 fait. ‘sane probabili; 
212 summo i. fuisse; 237 Murena ‘mediocri τ 237 Turius parvo 
i.; Orat. 18 vir acerrimo i.; 109 poetas divino i.; Acad. 1, 34 fuit 
acri i.; 2, 117 sit i. divino; 125 paribus ... esse ... ingeniis; 


Fin. 1, 1 summis ingeniis ... philosophi; 2, 51 presen 
ingeniis homines; 74 te isto ... i.; 105 magno hic ... 1.3 4, 62 
tantis ingeniis homines; Tusc. 1, 3 si qui magnis haba pees 


exstiterunt; 7 vir summoi.; 5, Ὁ ‘fuerit .. . hebeti i. atque nullo; 
68 i. eximio (is vir) sit; Nat. Deor. 2, 16 Chrysippus, quamquam 
est acerrimo i.; de Div. 1, 6 accessit acerrimo vir i. Chrysippus ; 
53 eo vir i. Aristoteles et Paene divino; Off. 1, 158 optimo 
quisque i.; 2, 59 magno vir i.; 3, 25 optimo quisque et splendi- 
dissimo i. : Phil. 2, 13 vir summo i. ; 10, 17 hebeti enim i. est; 11, 
11 ille summo i; ad Fam. 4,6, 1 summo i. ... filium; 11, 22, 2 
hominem ... summo mad Atin«Is: 28.3 discipulum summo i. ; 
14,1, 1 ille talii.; Curt. Ruf., 4, 6, 3 horridis ingeniis multumque 
abhorrentibus; Plin., N. H., 16, 233 testudo ... portentosis 
ingeniis ... inventum; 5, 62 memorabili i.; Tac., Ann. 5, 8, 11 
Pomponius ... i. inlustri; Hist. 2, 87 calonum ... procacissimis 
ingeniis; Pomp. Mel., 1, 13, 3 specus singulari i.; Fronto, ad M. 
Caes. 4, 1 fuisse egregio i. ... virum; ad Ant. 1, 2 sublimi i. 
extiterunt ; 1, 2 ita egregio i. natus est; 2,6is .. . placidoi.; 12,6 
acri 1. (erat): ἘΠ mice Bok Vik est. oss libero ac liberali; 2, 7 
homo i. ... remisso et delicato ; Gell., 1, 53 subagresti homo i. et 
infestivo; 2, 18, 3 fuit... 1. liberali; 4, 15, 1 non mediocri i. viri; 
δι 3; 8 fuit i. homo eleganti; 12, 4, I quoi. ... esse; 13, 25, 21 
obtunso ingeniost; 13, 30, 3 feroci i. virum (quoting Pacuvius); 
17,5, 2 viri. Sania 19, 8,6 eoi. natus sum (quoting Ennius); 
19, 9, I adulescens . ” facili i, ac lubenti; Script. Hist. Aug., 
Ant. Pius 2, 1 fuit vir... ingenio singulari, eloquentiae nitidae, 
litteraturae praecipuae; Firm. Mat., 3, 6, 1 divinis ingenlis; 
Script. Physiog., II, Anon., 78 (Foerst.) virilii.; total 115. 


‘"Genitives: Plaut., Most. 814 esse existimo humani ingeni;? 
Cic., O. Rosc. 48 est hoc principium improbi animi miseri ingenii 
nulli consilii; Caec. 5 summi ingenii causam esse; ad Att. 1, 20, I 
idque ... ingenii summi ac sapientiae iudico; de Or. 2, 298 


1Ingenio sit mediocri, Davis, Halm, Baiter. εἶ 


3 Humani ingenii #Z, humani ingenio CD, humani ingenio 8, 


304 GEORGE VAIL EDWARDS. 


Crassi quidem responsum excellentis cuiusdam est ingenii ac 
singularis; 2, 300 videsne quae vis in homine acerrimi i.; de Leg. 
3, 45 vir magni i.;’ Brut. 110 in quibusdam laudandi viri etiamsi 
maximi i. non essent; Orat. 90 est autem illud acrioris i., hoc 
maioris artis; Liv., 1, 46, 4 Tarquinium, mitis i. iuvenem; 2, 23, 
15 Appius, vehementis i. vir; 7, 23, 6 gens ferox et i. avidi ad 
pugnam; 22, 29, 8 eum extrem1 i. esse; 22, 58, 8 Romanii. homo; 
25, 37, 2 impiger iuvenis et i. ... maioris; Val. Max., 1, 8, Ext. 
18 in vate i. florentis; 8, 8, Ext. 2 i. caelestis vates; 9, 12, 7 
illustris i. orator; 7, 2, Ext. 7 concitati i. iuvenes; Vell. Pat., 1, 7, 
I vir perelegantis i.; 2, 75, I magni vir animi doctissimique 1.; 
Sen. rhet., Controv. 2, 2 (10), 12 summi i. viro; 2, Exc. 2 summi 
i.; 2, 4 (12), 8 fuit autem Messala exactissimi 1. ; 3, praef. 4 vir 
maioris i. quam studii; 7, 4 (19), 8 Euctemon homo exactissimi 
i; 7, 5 (20), 11 Vinicius, exactissimi i.; 7, Exc. 5 Vinicius 
exactissimi i.; 9, 5 (28), 15 homo rarissimi etiam si non 
emendatissimi i.; Suas. 2, 15 Lesbocles magni nominis et nomini 
respondentis i.; 2, 17 Seneca fuit ... 1. confusi ac turbulenti; 2, 
22 homo ... quam infelicis i.; Sen. phil., Dial. 3, 20, 6 dicitur 
vir i. magni magis quam boni; 5, 7, 2 qui fervidi sit i. an frigidi 
atque humilis; 6, 16, 4 iuvenem inlustris i.; de Ben. 2, 27, 1 i. 
fuit sterilis; de Clem. 1, 9, 1 stolidi i. virum; 2, 7, 4 multos parum 
sani sed sanabilis i. servabit; Plin., N. H. 8, 6 est unum tardioris 
i.; 8, 55 vir tam artificis i. videbatur; 9, 39 Pollio ... prodigi et 
sagacis ad luxuriae instrumenta i. ; 36, 51 importuni i. fuit; Tac., 
Ann. 4, 42 celebris i. viro; 13, 11 iactandi i. voce principis; Suet., 
de Gram. 7 fuisse ... i. magni; Gell., 1, 4, 1 fuit honesti atque 
amoeni i.; I, 10, 4 excellentis i. ac prudentiae viro; 19, 8, 3 vir 
i. praecellentis; Justinus 18, 3, 13 servilis i.; Script. Phys, II, 
Pseud.-Pol., 6 (F. p. 152) pauci i. est; 12 (F. p. 155) praeceps 
est et pauci i.; total 51. 


It takes but a glance at these totals, ablatives 115, genitives 51, 
to show the insufficiency of the principles mentioned in the first 
three of our conclusions above; for no one would venture to assert 
that zzgenium denotes now a permanent, now a transient quality ; 
now an internal, now an external one; now a quality ‘‘as it 
appears,” now one “as it is.”’ 

A single glance, also, is sufficient to show, in illustration of the 
fourth proposition, that ablatives and genitives appear without 
distinction with or without esse. 

To illustrate more clearly the truth of the remaining three 
propositions, a rearrangement of the instances is here made 
whereby they will appear in one table in chronological order, 


1Magno Davis. 


INGENIUM IN ABLATIVE & GENITIVE OF QUALITY. 305 


as far as practicable, the ablatives and the genitives being placed in 
separate columns and cited by the limiting adjectives only. Many 
phrases occur repeatedly. These will appear regularly in their 
chronological places, enclosed, after their first appearance, in 
parentheses. The fact of their repeated occurrence will be noted 
also at the place where the phrase first appears. 

Phrases which appear in both ablative and genitive form will 
be put in italics. 


Plautus avido 
duro, also in Terence 
consimili 
malevolente 
eo, twice and also in Ennius 
and Gellius 
malo, also in Sallust 
pudico 
quibus 
alio 
bono, also in Terence 
nimio 
colubrino 
humani (humano ?) 
Pacuv. feroci, twice and in Gellius 
Ennius firmo 
(eo) 
Terence (dono) 
leni 
egregio, also in Fronto twice 
inhumano 
(duro) 
inexorabili 
liberali, also in Fronto and 
Gellius 
miro 
tali, also in Cicero 
Caecilius (i)sto, also in Cicero 
Afranius unico 
Sallust (malo) 
pravo 
impigro 
acri, twice; also in Cicero 
thrice; and in Fronto 
placido, also in Fronto 
mobili, twice 
Cicero miseri (Ὁ) 
singulari, thrice, and in Pomp. 
Mela and S. H. A. 


306 


Livy 


GEORGE VAIL EDWARDS. 


summo, eleven times 
summt, twice, second 
time doubtful, and 
in Sen. rhet. twice 
tardo, twice 
tanto 
quo, also in Gellius 
praestanti, twice and in Gellius 
inlustri, also in Tacitus 
magno, thrice 
pari 
acutissimo 
excellentis (?) 
ac singularis (?) 
acerrimt (?) 
(acri), thrice 
quanto 
peracri 
divino, four times 
praestantibus 
mediocri, twice and in Gellius 
magni (magno ?) also 
in Vell. Pat., Sen. 
phil., and Sueton. 
maximi (?) 
praestantissimo 
(isto) 
acuto 
probabili 
parvo 
acerrimo, thrice 
acrioris (?) 
paribus 
summis 
praestantissimis 
tantis 
magnis 
hebeti, twice 
nullo 
eximio 
optimo, twice 
splendidissimo 
(tali) Κι 
mitis 
vehementis 
avidi ad pugnam 
extremi 


INGENIUM IN ABLATIVE & GENITIVE OF QUALITY. 397 


Val. Max. 


Vell. Paterc. 


Curtius Ruf. horridis 


Seneca rhet. abhorrentibus 


Seneca phil. 


Pliny, elder 


portentosis 
memorabili 
Tacitus procacissimis 
(inlustri) 
Pomp. Mela (singulari) 
Suetonius 
Fronto (egregio) twice 


sublimi 


Romani 
maioris, also in Sen. 
rhet. 


florentis 

caelestis 

inlustris, also in Sen. 
phil. 

concitati 

perelegantis 

(magnt) 

doctissimi 


(summz), twice 
exactissimi, four times 
(mazoris) 
rarissimi 
emendatissimi 
nomini respondentis 
confusi 

ac turbulenti 
infelicis 
(magnt) 

bont 

fervidi 

frigidi 

humilis 
(inlustris) 
sterilis 

stolidi 

sani 

sanabilis 
tardioris 
artificis 
prodigi 
sagacis 


importuni 


celebris 


jactandi 


(magni) 


308 GEORGE VAIL EDWARDS. 


(placido) 

(acri) 

libero 

liberali 

remisso 

delicato 

Gellius honesti 

amoeni 

subagresti 

infestivo 

(liberali) 
excellentis 

(non mediocri) 

eleganti 

(quo) 

obtunso 

(feroci) 

(praestanti) 


(eo) 


facili 
lubenti 
Scrip. Hist. Aug. 
Capitol. (singulari) 
Justinus servilis 
Firm. Mat. divinis 
Physiog., Anon. 
virili (?) 
Physiog., Ps.-Pol. pauci, twice 


praecellentis 


Again the conclusions follow from our first glance through the 
table. The ablative, very frequent in early and classical Latin, 
almost disappears from use in Livy and the writers of the Silver 
Age. After Tacitus it is seen again, frequently in phrases verb- 
ally identical with those of the earlier time. The genitive 
almost non-existent in early Latin, seems to be more frequently 
used by Cicero. After Livy it came to be used, for a time, to the 
almost total exclusion of the ablative, but lost this predominance, 
later beneath the tendency of Quintilian’s school to return to 
earlier models. 

As an illustration of the history of these ablative and genitive 
constructions the list just cited would be fairly representative of 
the whole situation. But this list of genitives can not be 
allowed to pass without material correction. It will be observed 
that in the table just given the genitives from Plautus and Cicero 


INGENIUM IN ABLATIVE & GENITIVE OF QUALITY. 309 


have nearly all been marked doubtful. They have been cited for 
various reasons which will appear through the discussion of them 
in detail. 

First, let us consider the example from Plautus, Most. 814 
humani ingeni. The latest editors agree in reading Et bene 
monitum duco atque esse existimo humani ingeni. This reading 
makes the meter easy, for in the seventh foot of a trochaic sep- 
tenarius a trochee |ingén|i is regular, whereas a dactyl ingénio 
would be extremely unusual. Earlier editors, however, have not 
reached the same agreement for the text. Guyet proposed atque 
humano ingenio te existumo; Ritschl, et te esse humano ingenio 
existumo; and besides these Bentley, Miller, Bergk, Langen and 
others have attempted emendations of this verse. The inconsist- 
ency of the manuscript readings tempts indeed to emendation, 
for Cand D read humani ingenio, which seems not to make sense ; 
F and Z (the inferior codex Lipsiensis and the editio princeps) read 
humani ingenit, while B has humanz ingenio, with a correction by 
the second hand to humano. The correction of humant to humano 
is simple and easy, for the corrected vowel is in an elided syllable 
as the verse stands and is identical with the initial vowel of the 
following word. On the other hand the change of zzgenz at the 
end of a line to zzgenio would be difficult. It would seem, there- 
fore, that the reading humano ingenio would be clearly superior 
except for its metrical irregularity. How great importance is 
to be attached to this metrical irregularity is difficult to determine. 
Granting that a parallel instance to «vv— at the close of a 
trochaic septenarius is hard to find, and that the synizesis ingenio, 
+v—, does not occur elsewhere in Plautus, the fact remains that 
Plautus is in other places by no means metrically perfect, and 
that the manuscripts point to the ablative rather than the genitive 
as the true reading. 

To settle this balance of arguments comes now the historical 
consideration that in early Latin such genitives of quality are 
extremely rare and that a genitive of quality zzgenzz is, except for 
this instance, totally unknown before Cicero, while the ablative of 
quality zzgenzo occurs before Cicero 28 times, Plautus alone fur- 
nishing 13 of these instances, not including the passage under 
discussion. Therefore, the texts which give us here a genitive of 
quality zzgenz are at fault, and we should either read here with 
the best manuscripts zzgenzo, in spite of the meter, or emend 
by transposing zmgenzo to some other part of the line. 


310 GEORGE VAIL EDWARDS. 


Second, let us consider the examples from Cicero, mserz, 
summti, excellentis ac singularis, acerrimt, magni, maximt, acri- 
ovis ingeniz. Each of these expressions has been cited or trans- 
lated as a genitive of quality by some authority and hence has 
been admitted, with or without attaching a sign of caution, to 
the list above. We shall see from a brief discussion how little 
some of these instances deserve a place among true genitives of 
quality. 

One of the plainest of these instances is ad Att. 1, 20, 1 deinde 
te... moderatissimum fuisse vehementissime gaudeo, idque 
neque amoris mediocris et ingenii summi ac sapientiae iudico. 
Clearly the meaning here is “1 regard this as a mark of no small 
affection and of the highest ability and rightmindedness,” or in 
other phrase, “as the act belonging to, or pertaining to no small, 
etc.” or “as due to no small, etc.” This is not a genitive of 
quality but a possessive. To bea genitive of quality it should 
mean “8 thing which possesses no small affection, etc.” 

Another instance plainly not belonging in our category is Orat. 
go est autem illud acrioris ingenii, hoc maioris artis. This does 
not mean “the former possesses the keener constitution, the latter 
the greater skill,” which would be a genitive of quality, but it 
means “ the former is a thing belonging to the sharper nature, the 
latter to the higher skill,” or as Sandys translates, “‘ while ‘ wit’ is 
more a gift of nature arising from an inborn sprightliness of 
temper, ‘humor’ is rather the result of refined cultivation.” 
Compare also Piderit’s phrase “ die facetiae sind mehr Sache der 
feinen Bildung,” where the genitive is one of origin. 

A third instance where the question is one of interpretation is 
de Or. 2, 298 Crassi quidem responsum excellentis cuiusdam est 
ingenii acsingularis; cui quidem ... visumest... Some assert 
that the passage means, “ The reply of Crassus is one of a noble 
and singular character,” that is, possesses a noble and singular 
character, an interpretation which makes the construction a genitive 
of quality. It is better, however, to interpret it as a possessive, 
and so it is interpreted by many, for instance by Guthrie, who in 
his translation of 1808 will hardly be suspected of bias on the 
question of the genitive of quality. He renders: “As to the 
answer of Crassus it was the answer of a noble and elevated mind 
who looked upon it etc.” It may be added, in support of this 
interpretation that a genitive of quality szzgu/aris would be 


INGENIUM IN ABLATIVE & GENITIVE OF QUALITY. 3%! 


of itself extremely unusual, especially so for Cicero, as is shown 
in my dissertation, The Ablative of Quality and the Genitive 
of Quality, page 30. 

A fourth instance of the same character is de Or. 2, 300 
Videsne quae vis in homine acerrimi ingenii, quam potens et 
quanta mens fuerit? This sentence, appearing in Livy or Seneca, 
might well be interpreted by a genitive of quality but the great 
rarity of this genitive in Cicero, contrasted with the frequency 
of the ablative zzgenzo, gives strong support to those who interpret 
this genitive as a possessive with vzs and translate, ‘Do you 
conceive what force and vigor of genius, how powerful and 
extensive a capacity there was in that great man?” 

A fifth instance, Ὁ. Rosc. 48 Est hoc principium * improbi animi 
miseri ingenii nulli consilii, has similar grounds for its exclusion 
from our category. Whether we read here principium with 
the manuscripts and earlier editors, or adopt Miiller’s con- 
jecture principio, the interpretation of the genitive remains 
unaffected. As a genitive of quality the rendering would be, 
“This beginning, or plan, is characterized by a wicked spirit, 
a despicable nature, a lack of foresight.”” Much better seems the 
interpretation as a mere possessive: ‘‘ This is the plan of a wicked, 
worthless, unwise individual (animus, ingentum, consilium),” 
and this interpretation has the authority of an unprejudiced 
scholar, Osenbriiggen, who translates, in Jahn’s Archiv fir Phil. 
u. Paed., vol. 11 (1845), p. 574, “so legt ein schlechtes Herz, 
ein elender Geist, ein unkluger Kopf einen Plan an.” We 
have to do in this instance with what, if accepted, would 
be the earliest undenied example of znugenii as a genitive of 
quality ; for the instance cited from Plautus must be denied that 
place. It is proper, therefore, to regard the innovation with the 
closest scrutiny and, other things being equal, to assume that it 
is the familiar and not the novel interpretation which is to be 
accepted. Many editors call attention in this passage to the 
archaic character of the genitive form z//z, which would indicate 
an early origin for the whole phrase. Osenbriiggen suggests 
that Cicero is quoting the words of some poet. The suggestion 
is not unreasonable and its acceptance, owing to the rarity of all 
such genitives of quality in the early times, would render still more 
unlikely an interpretation of these genitives as genitives of quality. 


1 Principio Miller. 


312 GEORGE VAIL EDWARDS. 


A sixth instance presents an objection of a different sort: Brut. 
110 in quibusdam laudandi viri, etiamsi maximi ingenii non 
essent, probabiles tamen industria. In this case the text is cor- 
rupt. Klotz, Orelli, Ellendt, Kayser, Jahn-Eberhard, Piderit, 
Stangl and others read as above, with all the manuscripts. On 
the other hand Peter, Madvig, Friedrich and others read “lau- 
dandis viris . . . probabilis etc.” The manuscripts on which the 
text rests are all derived from the lost Laudensis, itself not a 
codex of perfect authority, and the difficulties of the passage are 
so great that editors have not stopped with brief conjectures, but 
Eberhard has rejected the clause “etiamsi .. . essent,” and Bake 
discards as spurious the whole passage “in quibusdam ... 
industria.” It is but fair to say that our passage might derive some 
support for maximi ingenii as a genitive of quality from three con- 
siderations; first, the Brutus is one of Cicero’s later works, so 
that zzgenzz here might have been used after the analogy of many 
of his other genitives of quality; second, the genitive of quality 
with the adjective maxzmz is one of the earliest and most frequent 
of the forms through which the genitive of quality attained its 
Ciceronian development; third, Cicero had probably once before 
used one genitive of quality, zzgenzz, though of a somewhat 
different type. Notwithstanding these circumstances the fact 
remains that zzgeniz here is opposed to Cicero’s regular usage, 
is almost unexampled at the date of its supposed occurrence and 
appears in a difficult passage of much-doubted MS authority and 
in a phrase which some editors hold to be spurious. 

Two more illustrations from Cicero must be cited. One of 
these, our seventh, is perhaps a true genitive of quality though of 
exceptional character. Caec.5 video summi ingenii causam esse. 
‘Qua in re,” says Cicero, “si mihi esset unius A. Caecinae 
causa agenda, profiterer satis idoneum esse me defensorem .. . 
Sed quum de eo mihi iure dicendum sit quod pertineat ad 
omnes . . . video summi ingenii causam esse non ut id demon- 
stretur quod ..., sed ne omnes, etc.” Ifthe meaning here is, “I 
see that the case is one calling for the highest ability,” then 
although not of the ordinary type, which would be, ‘‘a case having 
an ability of the highest order,” yet it is to be distinguished from 
the mere possessives discussed above and is to be compared 
rather with those figurative expressions of early origin which 
have been assigned to this construction, as de Or. 1, 257 Multi 
sudoris res; ad Fam. 9, 24, 4 multi cibi hospitem, multi ioci. 


INGENIUM IN ABLATIVE & GENITIVE OF QUALITY. 313 


The eighth and last instance is a puzzle: de Leg. 3, 45 vir 
magni ingenii summaque prudentia. The expression has been 
fully discussed in the writer’s dissertation, The Ablative of 
Quality and the Genitive of Quality, pp. 54 and 55, where the 
conclusion is reached that, in spite of the agreement of all manu- 
scripts, Cicero may have written, as some editors think, maguno 
imgenio. Otherwise we should have here, as Stegmann remarks, 
“eine eigenthiimliche Mischung.” 

Of all these supposed instances of the use of 7ugenzz as a genitive 
of quality before Livy, nearly every one, then, has some ground to 
warrant its exclusion from our category, the exceptions being only 
one or two of those last cited. 

With this reconstruction of the historical aspect of our genitive 
ingenit we are brought next to the sixth point of our discussion, 
namely, the preservative influence which the early prominence of 
the ablative zzgenzo exerted upon its later use. 

Having reduced the number of Cicero’s examples of zugenzz to 
one or two, we find the proportion of genitives very small for this 
noun. Of all Cicero’s ablatives of quality one in every twenty 
occurs with zzgenium ; of Cicero’s genitives of quality not one 
in a hundred occurs with this noun. The ready inference is that 
the great frequency of zxgenzo helped to maintain its own use and 
to hinder the use of zwgenzz, on the principle that familiar ideas 
tend to recur to the mind in their familiar form. 

A further consideration of the table will illustrate more widely 
the operation of this principle. Of the 28 adjectives used with 
the ablative zzgenio before Cicero, 12 recur with zmgenzo in later 
writers; in all 17 times. Of the 24 instances of imgenio as an 
ablative of quality occurring after Suetonius, 11 are phrases dating 
froin a period at least as far back as Cicero. On the other hand few 
of the conventional ablative phrases were ever changed to 
the genitive form. So of the 40 new genitive phrases with 
ingeniz appearing after Cicero, only 3 show adjectives which 
have been used in corresponding ablative phrases, and 
two of these even seem to apologize for their form by the 
addition of qualifying phrases: with Plautus’ avido ingenio 
compare Livy’s izngenzz avidi ad pugnam, and with Plautus’ 
bono ingenio compare Livy’s inmgenii magni magis guam bont. 
Furthermore the transformation of an ablative phrase into 
a genitive phrase seems at times distinctly avoided by means 


314 GEORGE VAIL EDWARDS. 


of a synonym; so with Terence’s zmgenio lent compare Livy’s 
mitis ingenii; with Cicero’s ingentis praestantibus, ingentis prae- 
stantissimis, ingento praestantissimo and with Cicero’s and Gellius’ 
ingento praestanti compare Gellius’ zmgeniz praecellentis, ex- 
cellentis, but never praestantis. 

From the above discussion must appear the truth of the seventh 
of the propositions enumerated at the beginning of this paper, 
namely, that the historical factor is of very great importance 
for the understanding of our constructions. If the investigator 
were to stop with the writers preceding Livy, or with the phil- 
osopher Seneca, the evidence of the forces which were operating 
to control the usage would be incomplete. It is only by a more ex- 
tended investigation that the operation upon these constructions 
of two forces, analogy and the desire for a change of style, is 
brought clearly to the surface. 


Oxtver Coxecr, Micu. GEORGE VAIL EDWARDS. 


΄ 


MAGIC IN THEOKRITOS AND VERGIL 


No one who will read the Greek and Latin versions of the 
love-incantations given in the second idyl of Theokritos and the 
eighth eclogue of Vergil can fail to be impressed with the greater 
vigor and intensity of the Greek original. The reason, and a very 
cogent one, which drives Simaitha to magic rites is given in v. 36? 


a , 
Os με τάλαιναν 


> ‘ A »" \ Ἂν. 5. ἐλ ο ἡ 
ἀντὶ γυναικὸς ἔθηκε κακὰν καὶ ἀπάρθενον εἶμεν. 


So in speaking of her lover (v. 3) she says τὸν ἐμὸν βαρὺν εὖντα 
φίλον καταδήσομαι ἄνδρα; She terms him ἀνάρσιος (v. 6) and speaks 
(v. 159) of the sorrow that he brings to her ai δ᾽ ἔτι καί pe | λυπεῖ. 

Nor is her charm designed to have but a gentle effect upon 
Delphis; note v. 21 mdoo’, ἅμα καὶ λέγε ταῦτα" “τὰ Δέλφιδος ὄστια 
πάσσω᾽, V. 26 οὕτω τοι καὶ Δέλφις ἐνὶ φλογὶ σάρκ᾽ ἀμαθύνοι, V. 50 
καὶ ἐς τόδε δῶμα περάσαι | μαινομένῳ ἴκελος, V. 61 καὶ λέγ᾽ ἐπιφθύζοισα " 
“τὰ Δέλφιδος ὄστια μάσσω᾽ (cf. v. 21), ν. 159 τὰν ᾿Αΐδαο πύλαν 
ναὶ Μοίρας ἀραξεῖ which re-echoes v. 6 οὐδὲ θύρας ἄραξεν ἀνάρσιος. 

Again we may note Simaitha’s earnest protestations of passion 
and her remarks on the power of love in v. 23 Δέλφις ἔμ᾽ ἀνίασεν, 
V. 35 ἀλλ᾽ ἐπὶ τήνῳ πᾶσα καταίθομαι" cf. v. 6 and v. 55 ff. 

In general, however, the incantation of Theokritos contains 
very little poetic digression.*. The charm is described and carried 
out in a quick succession of actions through which these notes 
of anguish and anger keep ever recurring. 

In turning to Vergil, a much less technical and a far milder treat- 


1 Owing to the untimely death of the author, Dr. Morris C. Sutphen, who 
was drowned in the Shrewsbury River on August 31, 1901, this article, 
which was left by him in manuscript, did not have the benefit of his final 
revision. 

2 The references are to Ahrens, Bucolicorum Graecorum Reliquiae, Lips. 
1861. 

3 The exceptions are vv. 33-36, 45-6, 48-9, 55-6. 


316 MORRIS C. SUTPHEN. 


ment of the theme is at once noticeable. There is no prologue with 
magic invocation, no story of a maiden cruelly wronged. There 
is a lover, of course,—for so we must probably take the meaning 
of coniugis (v. 66)'—but faithless Daphnis is not faithless Delphis. 
There is also a certain softening of the details that were borrowed 
from Theokritos; for example v. 21 πάσσ᾽, ἅμα καὶ λέγε ταῦτα " “τὰ 
Δέλφιδος ὄστια πάσσω᾽ appears in Vergil (v. 78) as necte, Amarylli, 
modo et ‘Veneris’ dic ‘vincula necto.’ In each poem mention is 
made of the barking of dogs; but in Theokritos (v. 30) Simaitha 
interprets the sound to indicate the approach of the dread Hekate, 
in Vergil (v. 107) it is apparently a favorable omen. 

If we exclude the introductory lines in Theokritos the two 
poems are of almost exactly the same length, the actual incantation 
covering forty-four hexameters in Theokritos and forty-five in 
Vergil or if we further exclude the intercalary verse—thirty-five 
in one and thirty-six in the other, since the first intercalary in 
Theokritos (v. 17) and the re-echoing of the intercalary in Vergil 
(v. 109) are, I believe, not properly parts of these incantations. 
I have indicated that the purely poetic element in Theokritos is 
slight ; in Vergil, on the other hand, there are two long digressions 
on the power of carmina—a hackneyed subject in later Latin 
poetry’—vv. 69-71 and 95-99, and five lines are used to imitate 
a simile which was borrowed from Varius (vv. 85-89) " to parallel 
two lines in Theokritos (vv. 45-6). 

A still wider divergence is noted when we investigate the form 
of each incantation. 

The recent publications of magic papyri, particularly those 
edited by Ὁ. Wessely in Denkschriften d.k. Akad. der Wiss. zu 
Wien, phil.-hist. Cl., vol. 36, II (1888) and 42 (1893), enable us to 
investigate each poem, but more especially the idyl of Theokritos, 
in a manner that before was impossible. The words of Theokritos 


1So of one’s betrothed: Verg. Aen. 3,330 (Forbiger); 9, 138 (Conington). 
Euphemistically: Prop. 2,8, 29; Ovid, her. 8,84; Verg. ecl. 8,18; Aen. 7» 
189 (but cp. Conington). 

(Ore Verg. Aen. 4, 489, Tibull. 1, 2, 43; 1, 8,19; Propert. 4, 5,9; Ovid 
am. 1, 8, 17; 2, 1, 23; rem. am. 253; her. 6, 85; met. 7, 199; med. fac. 35; 
Petron. 134, Sen, Herc. Oet. 454; Apul. met. 1, 3, Apoll. Rhod. Arg. 3, 
532. See A. Zingerle, Ovidius und sein Verhaltniss zu den Vorgangern, 
P- 75: 

3 Macrob. 6, 2, 20. 


MAGIC IN THEOKRITOS AND VERGIL. $17 


in the few lines that sketch the invocation show some strong 
points of agreement with these papyri. 

Wessely’ comments on verbal agreements. So Theokritos 
in v. 10 νῦν δέ νιν ἐκ θυέων καταδήσομαι uses two magical fermini 
technict, καταδέω with which may be compared the general use 
of this verb and its accompanying noun κατάδεσμος in these papyri, 
and θυέων, with which Wessely compares pap. Par. 2575 ἡ δεῖνά 
σοι θύει θεὰ δεινόν τι Ovpiacpa; further pap. Par. 2866 σαρκοφάγε ... 
ἐλθὲ ἐπ᾽ ἐμαῖς θυσίαις. Again the epithets in v. 11 ἅσυχε" δαῖμον and 
in ν. 14 χαῖρ᾽ ‘Exdra δασπλῆτι are found together in pap. Par. 2856 
ἥσυχε καὶ δασπλῆτι" With v. 12 τὰν καὶ σκύλακες τρομέοντι, note the 
epithet of Hekate, pap. Par. 2722 σκυλακάγεια and Ps.-Origen. 
refut. omn. haeres. IV, 35 χαίρουσα σκυλάκων ὑλακῇ τε καὶ αἵματι φοινῷ."ἡ 
A parallel with v. 13 ἐρχομέναν νεκύων ἀνά τ᾽ ἠρία καὶ μέλαν αἷμα is 
found in pap. Par. 2856 ἥσυχε καὶ δασπλῆτι τάφοις ἔνι δαῖτα ἔχουσα ὃ 
and the citation from Ps.-Origenes just quoted χαίρουσα σκυλάκων 
ὑλακῇ τε καὶ αἵματι hows, | ἀν véxvas στείχουσα κατ᾽ npia τεθνηώτων, . . . 
| ἔλθοις εὐάντητος ἐφ᾽ ἡμετέρῃσι θυηλαῖς. 

Further attention may be directed to ν. 11 φαῖνε καλόν with which 
compare pap. Par. 1045 εἴσελθε καὶ φάνηθί " μοι ἱλαρὸς εὐμενὴς πραΐς. 
The epic and tragic verb ὀπάδει (ν. 14) is reflected in pap. Par. 
948 σθένος αὐτὸς ὀπάζοι.. With the epithet χθονία (v. 12) τᾷ χθονίᾳ 
θ᾽ ‘Exara compare pap. Par. 1443 ‘Exarn χθονία, pap. Lond. (Anastasy) 
335. Theokritos says (v. 40) 

xas δινεῖθ᾽ ὅδε ῥόμβος ὁ χάλκεος ἐξ ᾿Αφροδίτας 


ὡς τῆνος δινοῖτο 798’ ἁμετέρῃσι θύρῃσιν 


a parallel to which occurs in pap. Par. 2782 σπεῦδε τάχιστ᾽. ἤδη ἐπ᾽ 


» by “ ὃ 
ἐμαῖσι θύραισι παρέστω, 2757 ἐπ᾽ ἐμαῖσι θύραισι τάχιστα ληθομένη τοκεων ἷ τε 


1 Denkschriften d. k. Akad. der Wiss. zu Wien, 1888, II, p. 27. 

2 For the term ἤσυχε applied to the moon see pap. Par. 2544. 

3 These two epithets, apparently so contradictory, arise from the invoca- 
tion to the moon as the kindly goddess Selene (cf. Roscher, Selene und 
Verwandtes, p. 75 ff.) and as Hekate the dread mistress of ghosts, see 
Dilthey, Rhein. Mus, 27, 390. 

4 Dilthey, Rhein. Mus. 27, 388. 

5 See A. Dieterich, Nekyia, Leipzig, 1893, p. 52 ff. 

6 The adjuration φαῖνε (φάνηϑι) occurs frequently in the magic papyri, cf. 
pap. Par. 1002, 1007, 1015, 1010 etc. 

1See Dilthey’s conjecture, Rhein. Mus. 27, 405 and Abel, Orphica, p. 290, 
Vv. 29. 


318 MORRIS C. SUTPHEN. 


συνηθείης τε τέκνων «τε!» καὶ στυγέουσα τὸ πᾶν ἀνδρῶν γένος ἠδὲ γυναικῶν 
ἐς τόδ᾽ ἐμοῦ τοῦ δ(εῖνα) μόνον δ᾽ ἔμ᾽ ἔχουσα παρέστω ἐν φρεσὶ δαμναμένη 
κρατερῆς ὑπ᾽ ἔρωτος ἀνάγκης. With this compare further Theokritos 
V. 45 τόσσον ἔχοι λάθας and v. 44 εἴτε γυνὰ τήνῳ παρακέκλιται εἴτε καὶ ἀνήρ 


and pap. Par. 2737 fi.’ 


; 2 
μηδέποτε βλέφαρον βλεφάρῳ΄ κυλλιστὸν (κολλητὸν, Wessely) ἐπέλθοι, 
Ω ἈΠ ΒΨ ΥΝ - ΄, , 
τειρέσθω δ᾽ em ἐμαῖσι φιλαγρύπνοισι μερίμναις, 
εἰ δέ τιν᾽ ἄλλον ἔχοις ἐν κόλποις [ὃς] κατάκειται, 
κεῖνον ἀπωσάσθω, ἐμὲ δ᾽ ἐν φρεσὶν ἐγκαταθέσθω, 
rol ’ ) a 
kal προλιποῦσα τάχιστ᾽ ἐπ᾽ ἐμοῖς προθύροισι παρέστω, 


δαμναμένη Ψυχὴ ἐπ᾽ ἐμῇ φιλότητι καὶ εὐνῇ. 


Verse 51 καὶ ἐς τόδε δῶμα περάσαι : note pap. Par. 2756 μαινομένη ἤδη 
καὶ ἐπ᾽ ἐμαῖσι θύραισι τάχιστα aNd 2908 ἄνασσ᾽ ἱκετῶ ἄξον τὴν δεῖνα τάχιστα 
μολοῦσαν ἐλθεῖν ἐν προθύροισιν ἐμοῦ τοῦ δεῖνα φιλότητι καὶ εὐνῇ. 

In investigating the various magical properties we find the 
ἄλφιτα Of v. 18 mentioned in pap. Par. 2583, 2586, 2647; the ῥόμβος 
ὁ χάλκεος (V. 40) in pap. Par. 2296 and 2336 ῥόμβος σιδηροῦς; κηρός 
(v. 38) frequently, pap. Par. 1878, 2359, 2378, 2945, 3114 etc.; 
πίτυρα (v. 28) in pap. Par. 2580. 

Two facts are plainly evident; that the actual language of these 
incantations and the words of Theokritos are much alike, and 
that the magical properties employed are also mentioned, in great 
part, in the magic papyri. 

In the eclogue of Vergil no sketch of an invocation is given 
and the amount of space taken up with the description of the 
magic rites is relatively so small, that little can be found suggestive 
of an incantation in the wording of the poem. However, even 
here, all editors note the internal rhyme of v. 80 


Limus ut hic durescit, et haec ut cera liquescit 


as a magical reminiscence. Many interesting examples of such 
rhyming syllables have been collected by R. Heim in Jahrb., 
Supplementband 19, p. 544 ff.*° To these I would add a striking 


1 Dilthey, Rhein. Mus. 27, 398. 

2. Cf. Shakspere, Macbeth, 1, 3. 

3 See especially Marcell. 8, 191 and Varro, Γ. 1.1, 2, 27; cf. also the remarks 
of Woelfflin, ALL, 1, 365 and 3, 454, and of Bacheler, Rhein. Mus. 34, 343. 


MAGIC IN THEOKRITOS AND VERGIL. 319 


instance in the Medea of Dracontius 398 (PLM. V, p. 206 Baehr.) 
where Medea is described addressing the moon: 


Ac nocturnorum triplex regina polorum 
Atque ¢enebrarum splendens patrona xigrarum 


with which may also be compared pap. Lugd. 7, 30 ff 


eva ς ον ΄ 
ov TO ονομα (ov) ἢ γὴ ακουσασα 


© , c @ >? » , 

ἑλίσσεται, ὁ ἅδης ἀκούων ταράσσεται, 
‘A , 4 A > ’ 

ποταμοὶ θάλασσα λίμναι πηγαὶ ἀκούουσαι 


’ὔ ’ Φ. 
πήγνυνται, αἱ πέτραι ἀκούσασαι ῥήγνυνται. 


But in Theokritos and Vergil we have a very strong magical 
reminiscence to which too little attention has been paid—the 
intercalary verse and the number of times that it is repeated. 

The intercalary verse is of ancient origin—perhaps it is as old 
as poetry itself. Its artistic use was appreciated in bucolic poetry 
in Theokritos’ idyls 1 and 2, in Bion’s Ἐπιτάφιος ᾿Αδώνιδος and 
in the third idyl of Moschos.? In Latin literature it was used by 
Catullus,* by Vergil* in the eighth eclogue, Ovid her. 9, (vv. 146, 
152, 158, 164), am. 1, 6, in the Pervigilium Veneris, incert. epist. 
Didonis (PLM. IV, p. 272 Baehr.) and in Ausonius ecl. VI, pre- 
catio p. 17 (Schenk]). 

No intercalary appears in any of the shorter charms cited by 
Heim nor, as far as I can discover, in the magic papyri. An ex- 
cellent parallel however exists in a Chaldean incantation given 
by Lenormant, La magie chez les Chaldéens, p. 75 (English 
translation). 


The evil, which is in my body, in my flesh, and in my bones, 
May (all that) be broken in pieces and plucked up 
As this twig. 
May the burning fire devour it this day, 
May the evil fate depart and I behold the light again, 


¥ * ¥ το * 


1A. Dieterich, Jahrb., Suppl. 16, p. 808. 

*R. Peiper, Jahrb. 87 (1864), 449 and 456; further literature in Susemihl, 
Gesch. d. gr. Litt. in der Alexandrinerzeit I, p. 216, n. 58. 

3 See Ziwsa, Wien. Stud. 3, 208. 

Ὁ Brandt, p. 7, de re metrica qua usus est Vergilius in eclogis, Festsch., 
Salzwedel, 1882, 


320 MORRIS C. SUTPHEN. 


As this wool is rent, so also shall this spell be, 
The burning fire shall devour it. 
May the burning fire devour it this day, 
May the evil fate depart and I behold the light again. 


Other close parallels occur in Sanskrit’ literature, especially 
in the sixth book of the Atharva-Veda which is concerned with 
charms for gaining the passionate love of a man or a woman. 
Here the intercalary is frequently employed; VI, 30, may yonder 
man burn after me;’ cf. VI, 8; VI, 139.2 Such incantations form 
very close parallels with the second idyl of Theokritos. 

A matter of still greater importance is the number of the inter- 
calaries. Lenormant* makes the suggestive remark that these 
are used not merely for metrical adornment, but have actual 
reference to magic procedure. There is no doubt that the number 
of intercalaries, if they are to have magic significance, should be 
three or a multiple of three.’ The locus classicus for the religious 
and magic use of three and its multiples is Ausonius griph. 26, 
p. 129 (Schenkl); note especially v. 4 


Iuris idem tribus est quod ter tribus, omnia in istis. 


The number three occurs very often in Heim’s collection,’ twenty- 
seven seems to be next in frequency, closely followed by nine.’ 
In both Theokritos and Vergil three is fairly well represented ; 
Hekate is expected at the ¢hzrd turn of the iynx wheel (Theokr. 
II, 31) and Simaitha pours out her libation three times, v. 43. 
In Vergil note the three magic colors (v. 73), the triple circum- 
ambulation of the altar® (v. 74), and the binding of three love-knots 
(v. 77) each of three colors. 


1 Kaegi, Der Rig-Veda, n. 83, A. 

31 cite from Bloomfield, The Atharva-Veda, 1899. 

3 So in charms to ward off disease, I, 25; II, 10; III, 31 εἴς. 

4 Rhein. Mus. 9, 376. 

5 Heim, notwithstanding the experience gained by the collection of 
about two hundred and fifty incantamenta, says (l.c., p. 511) ‘fortasse 
etiam afferri carmen decies repetitum necesse est.” But ten, as a magic 
number, has hardly any significance; see further his remarks upon magic 
numbers, pp. 542-3. 

6 See nos. 49, 52, 69, 82, 84 etc; for twenty-seven, nos. 51, 94, 100, 118 etc; 
ninety-nine, no. 187; nine, nos. 38, 58, 184, 196, 226. 

7See also Woelfflin, ALL. 9, 334 ff. 

8 Perhaps a prophylactic ceremony; cf. Verg. Aen. 11, 188 ter circum 
accensos cincti fulgentibus armis | decurrere rogos. 


MAGIC IN THEOKRITOS AND VERGIL. 321 


The number nine appears to be associated directly with the 
θεοὶ xOdne;' compare Tibull. 1, 5, 15 


Ipse ego velatus filo tunicisque solutis 
Vota novem Triviae nocte silente dedi. 


So Ovid, fast. 5, 439 


Hoc novies dicit, nec respicit.? 


Since three and its multiples appear to possess magic significance 
we must assume that Theokritos chose nine*® as the number best 
suited for his artistic purpose. 

At once objection will be made that there are still 4ez repetitions 
of the intercalary in Theokritos. In reply to such objections, 
it may be said that the intercalary verse, in general, follows the 
colon to which it is attached and artistically separates it from the 
following colon. But this is not a necessary or invariable usage. 
At times we find an introductory verse afterwards repeated as an 
intercalary. This seems to be thecase in the first idyl of Theo- 
kritos where ἄρχετε βουκολικᾶς, Μοῖσαι φίλαι, ἄρχετ᾽ ἀοιδᾶς merely 
introduces the song of Thyrsis which follows. Again, in the 
᾿Επιτάφιος Addvidos the first line starts with the words αἴας ὦ τὸν "Adwve 
foreshadowing the intercalary which first appears in v. 6 αἴαζ᾽ ὦ τὸν 
“Adwviv* ἐπαιάζουσιν [Ἔρωτες. 

The same artistic plan has been followed, in my opinion, in the 
second idyl. To expressthisin musical terms, we have a prelude, 
vv. 1-16, followed by the intercalary verse (v. 17) which serves as 
the motz/, expressing the ever-recurring thought and keeping the 
object of the incantation before the mind. Thus it forms an artistic 
separation between the invocation and the incantation. The latter 


1 See Lersch, Antiquitates Vergilianae, §70, p. 210 and Servius on Verg. 
Aen. VI, 426 and 565. ἦ 

2 See further Ovid met. 7, 261 and 7, 234. : 

3 For further literature on the significance of the number nine see Jahn, 
Ueber den Aberglauben des bésen Blicks, p. 95, n. 277, Diels, Sibyll. 
Blatter, p. 41, nm. 1. Compare Shakspere’s Macbeth, act. I, sc. 3: 


The weird sisters, hand in hand 
Posters of the sea and land 

Thus do go about, about. 

Thrice to thine and thrice to mine 
And thrice again to make up nine, 
Peace! the charm’s wound up. 


322 MORRIS C. SUTPHEN. 


also—or to be more exact—the first and last cola end, if so I may 
term it, on the same note, τὰ Δέλφιδος sorta πάσσω (Vv. 21) and ra 
Δέλφιδος ὄστια μάσσω (V. BL). 

Again the use of πρᾶτον (v. 18), ἄλφιτά τοι πρᾶτον πυρὶ τάκεται, 
indicates that the actual rites of magic have just been started, 
while in v. 3 βαρὺν εὖντα φίλον καταδήσομαι ἄνδρα Simaitha speaks 
of them as future action. But if this is the case the first inter- 
calary is merely used with artistic not magical intent. 

Confidence in this theory may be strengthened by the fact that 
the incantation proper consists of just nine magic actions each 
accompanied by a subsidiary wish expressed, or suppressed for 
artistic reasons and separated by the turning of the iynx wheel, 
the whir of which is plainly heard in the intercalary. In the first 
colon comes the burning of the ἄλφιτα with the partially expressed 
wish (v. 21) ra Δέλφιδος Soria πάσσω. Then the δάφνη is thrown on the 
fire and the wish (v. 26) follows οὕτω τοι καὶ Δέλφις ἐνὶ φλογὶ σάρκ᾽ 
dpabivo.? In the third colon the πίτυρα are introduced but the 
wish is artistically suppressed through Simaitha’s dread of the 
expected appearance of Hekate. The fourth colon contains 
neither magic rite nor wish but serves to break the monotony 
arising necessarily from the description of a close succession 
of technical actions. Note, however, that the fifth colon contains 
two actions, one of which properly belongs to the fourth division 
of the charm, each with its accompanying wish, v. 39 and v. 41. 
The libation (v. 43) and the wish with a slight poetic addition 
which again dispels monotony, fill out the sixth part. The seventh 
is perfectly regular with magic act (v. 48) and wish (vv. 50-1). 
A natural outburst of feeling * which takes the place of the formal 
expression of the wish, gives color to the eighth colon, while the 
ninth with its suggestion of a more powerful incantation brings 
the poem to a fitting close. 

If this theory is true for Theokritos, it should also hold good 
for the imitation by Vergil in the eighth eclogue. Here if we 


1See Biicheler, Rhein. Mus. 15, 451 and Ribbeck, Rhein. Mus. 17, 551. 

2 For the form of this wish see Kuhnert, Rhein. Mus. 49, 54 ff. 

3It may be noted that τᾶς χλαίνας τὸ κράσπεδον is the only thing thrown 
into the magic fire which is personally as well as symbolically suggestive 
of the faithless lover. 


MAGIC IN THEOKRITOS AND VERGIL. 323 


follow the MS tradition and retain v. 76' we have again but nine 
intercalaries, since the last line of the poem 


Parcite, ab urbe venit, iam parcite, carmina, Daphnis 


is no true intercalary but a mere re-echoing of it, a parallel 
to v. 61 in the first half of the eclogue 


Desine Maenalios, iam desine, tibia, versus, 


itself a direct imitation of the change of the intercalary in Theo- 
kritos’ first idyl. Each verse is used as a fitting and artistic close 
to its own poem. 

Nor does the incantation in Vergil really end with the seventh 
intercalary (v. 94) though no following acts of magic are men- 
tioned. Apparently the rest of the poem is taken up with 
preparations for a new incantation and a hint of the final happy 
dénouement. But we must not forget the iynx wheel or the art of 
Vergil. After asking for stronger herbs the enchantress repeats 
her charm (v. 100) for the eighth time. Then supposing that the 
magic fire is really dead—she terms it c7neres—she bids Amaryllis 
cast the ashes over her head into running water, and with the 
despairing cry ‘nihil ille deos, nil carmina curat’ completes her 
charm by the final turn of the wheel. Note the instantaneous 
transition from despair to hope (v. 105) ; 

Aspice: corripuit tremulis altaria flammis 
Sponte sua, dum ferre moror. 


The maid’ has seen a last red spark which brightens into life— 
with life there’s hope—the dog barks—and lo! the faithless lover 
appears. 

In retaining the intercalary at v.76 we avoid Charybdis but we 
must sail uncomfortably close to Scylla. It is charged that its 
retention violently breaks the sense of the colon and shatters the 
strophic arrangement of the two parts of the poem. In answer to 
the first objection it may be said that we have two undoubtedly 
different acts of magic separated by v. 76. The winding (v. 74) 
is merely preliminary to the solemn circumambulation of the 
altar—the main magic act of the first half, while the actual tying 


1 This verse is retained by Ribbeck, Heyne~Wagner, Paldamus, Coning- 
ton and Papillon, bracketed by Thilo, Kappes and Benoist, and omitted by 
Ladewig, Kolster, Forbiger, Walz and Hermes. 

31 follow Ribbeck’s arrangement of the dialogue. 


324 MORRIS C. SUTPHEN. 


of the vincula Veneris * is, in reality, a distinct step onward in the 
progress of the incantation. 

To meet the objections of the metricians, we must consider the 
warrant that they have for the omission of v. 76. Of course no 
one will assert that metrical unity should be violated between the 
two halves of the poem by the retention of v. 76, unless we have 
a corresponding intercalary at v. 28, the only place, it may be 
noted, in the first half of the eclogue where, within a five-line colon, 
the grammatical sense would not be broken.” Ribbeck, follow- 
ing y, retains the intercalary at v. 28 against the authority of M 
and P. This may seem daring, but if we believe that there is 
a cogent reason for the retention of the intercalary at v. 76, what 
appears daring is after all only right and reasonable. 

One or two points connected with these magic incantations 
require a more extended treatment. 

On terna... licia (ecl. vill, 73) Servius says: terna: tria : tria 
alba, tria rosea, et tria nigra; the schol. Bern. novem intelligimus 
... id est, alba, rosea, nigra omnia trinum numerum habentia. 
That Servius meant by vosea the color called puniceus is evident 
from his note on Aen. v, 269 puniceis ibant evincti temporibus : 
vittis roseis. Hence the magic colors were red, white and black.’ 

The color ved in antiquity has been the subject of considerable 
investigation,‘ from which we reach the result that urpureus and 
puniceus correspond most closely to that color which we term 
red. This color in ancient superstition appears to possess a 
distinct prophylactic quality.” In anthol. Pal. 5, 205, 5 the iynx 
wheel is bound with it; in Theokritos II, 2 red fillets are twined 


1See Heim, 1. c., p. 484, n. I. 

2An examination of other five-line cola will show that it would be 
manifestly unfortunate to attempt the insertion of an intercalary at v. 39 or 
v. 54 in the first half and equally unfortunate at v. 87 or 97 in the second 
half. 

3 This triplicate of colors is directly associated with Hekate, the especial 
goddess of magic, by Eusebius praep. evan. 5, 14 ἔστι dé σύμβολα μὲν τῆς 
“Ἑκάτης κηρὸς τρίχρωμος, ἐκ λευκοῦ καὶ μέλανος καὶ ἐρυθροῦ συνεστώς, ἔχων τύπον 
“Ἑκάτης. 

4Price, Am. Journ. Phil. 4,15, Jordan, Jahrb. 113, 164, H. Bliimner, ALL. 
6, 401. 

5 Lobeck, Aglaoph. 1257 f.; Jahn, l.c., p. 42, n. 47 ; Propert. 5, 9, 51 (M.); 
Tertull. apol. 13; Aesch. Eumen, 1007. 


«ΟἿ 


MAGIC IN THEOKRITOS AND VERGIL. 325 


about the altar. On the other hand, Artemidoros 1, 77 says ἔχει 
yap τινα τὸ πορφυροῦν χρῶμα συμπάθειαν πρὸς τὸν θάνατον; COMpare 
Aesch. Eumen. τοογ. Red has then evident magic qualities and 
associated with white and black we have the magic—or to be 
more exact—the moon-colors.’ 

In Apuleius met. 11, 2 Lucius invokes the moon: regina caeli, 
sive tu Ceres... seu tu caelestis Venus, ...seu Phoebi soror... 
seu nocturnis ululatibus horrenda Proserpina triformi facie lar- 
vales impetus comprimens. The cult of all these divinities is 
associated with that of the moon-goddess. The caelestis Venus is 
evidently Luna or Selene herself, a prominent figure in love- 
incantations.» Ceres is at times associated with the moon,‘ 
Artemis is the second one of the regular triad,® while Hekate, the 
third, is often confused with Persephone.‘ Such a four-fold lunar 
divinity appears in magic papyri, pap. Par. 2561 rerpaodin, but 
τριοδῖτι, V. 2525. 

When now the lunar divinity appears to Lucius she is described 
with the words: multicolor bysso tenui pertexta, nunc a/éo can- 
dore lucida, nunc cvoceo flore lutea, nunc voseo rubore flammida, 
et quae longe longeque etiam meum confutabat optutum, palla 
nigerrima splendescens atro nitore.’ 

Here evidently exists a color distinction for this manifold lunar 
divinity in her different manifestations.* That white is associated 
with Luna or Selene hardly requires proof. Her color is often 
likened to silver® or to swan’s-down. With the remarks of 
Apuleius compare also Prudentius contr. Symmach. 1,365 denique 
cum luna est, sublustri splendet amictu; Euseb. praep. evan. III, 
II, 32 Ἑκάτη δὲ ἡ σελήνη πάλιν. . . διὸ τρίμορφος ἡ δύναμις, τῆς μὲν 
νουμηνίας φέρουσα τὴν λευχείμονα καὶ χρυσοσάνδαλον. 

Yellow was also frequently and persistently associated with 
Demeter-Ceres,” while black was appropriate and symbolic for 


1 See Jahrb. Archaeol, Instit. 1894, Anz. p. 81. 

° For these magic colors in Sanskrit and German folk-lore see Kuhn, 
Zeitschrift fiir vergl. Sprachf. 13, 148. 

3 See Roscher, Selene, p. 83, n. 326 and Hildebrand on the passage in 
Apuleius. 

4Roscher, ]. 6.) p. 125, ἢ. 531. 5 Ibid. p. 116. § Ibid, p. 119. 

7 See Dieterich, Abraxas, p. 103. 8 Ibid. p. 19. 

9 See Bliimner, Farbenbezeichnungen bei den rém., Dichtern. 

10 Dieterich, Nekyia, pp. 26 and 38, 


326 MORRIS C. SUTPHEN, 


Hekate; cf. the epithets in magic papyri νυχία, χθονία, μελανείμων. 
But to connect the color red with Artemis-Diana is a matter of 
greater difficulty, though this color was strongly associated with 
Phoebus Apollo,’ and it is but natural that it should also be indic- 
ative of the Phoedi soror (Apul. met. 11, 3). 

It may be noted that Venus, appearing to Aeneas (Aen. 1,328), 
is taken for Diana 

O dea certe, | an Phoebi soror? 


and she replies (v. 335) 


Virginibus Tyriis mos est gestare pharetram 
Purpureoque alte suras vincire cothurno. 


Here the connection may appear too obvious with the famous 
Tyrian purple. But in ecl. VII, 32 where ‘ parvus Micon’ dedi- 
cates the stag-horns to Diana, we read 


levi de marmore tota 
puniceo stabis suras evincta cothurno, 


and Livius Andronicus, Ino 5, p.5 (Ribb. 3) says 


hymnum quando chorus festo canit ore Triviae. 
‘set iam purpureo suras include cothurno.’ 


Hildebrand in his note on the passage from Apuleius (XI, 3) 
compares with it the remarks of Plutarch, Isis et Osiris, c. 77 
στολαὶ δ᾽ αἱ μὲν Ἴσιδος" ποικίλαι ταῖς βαφαῖς. He assumes that these 
colors are associated with the moon when most identified with 
magic—during eclipse. Of the four colors mentioned by Apuleius, 
the yellow is undoubtedly the least distinctive and could be most 
easily omitted from the color-triad naturally belonging to the 
triformis dea. During an eclipse the first change of color results 
in a pallid, dead-white hue; compare Ovid rem. am. 256 nec 
subito Phoebi pallidus orbis erit; cp. Lucan 6,500. As the eclipse 
proceeds the color red becomes prominent, as Lucan shows in the 
passage just cited; Phoebe... palluit et nigris terrenisque ignibus 
arsit; Horace sat. 1, 8, 33 Lunam rubentem (with double signifi- 
cance); Seneca Hipp. 796 carmina sanguineae deducunt cornua 
lunae. Black is, of course, the color of total eclipse. 


1 Colors are often in Aegyptian mythology directly associated with cer- 
tain divinities ; cf. Plutarch, Isis et Osiris, c. 22. 

3 For the identification of Isis with the lunar divinity see Roscher, Selene, 
p- 14, ἢ. 40. 


MAGIC IN THEOKRITOS AND VERGIL, 327 


On Theokritos II, 28 νῦν θυσῶ τὰ πίτυρα the scholiast says: πίτυρα 
τὰ λεπτίσματα τοῦ σίτου καὶ τῆς κριθῆς. But great doubt may be cast 
upon the scholiast’s definition. That πίτυρα were possessed of 
magic or sacred significance is evident from Demosth. de Cor. 
§259 and pap. Par. 2579. 

The latter passage reads λεπτὰ πίτυρα τῶν μύρων. This appears 
to be a better definition. Not only is it unnatural to suppose that 
ἄλφιτα would be used in one magic rite and λεπτίσματα τοῦ σίτου καὶ 
τῆς κριθῆς so closely following in a new act of magic significance, 
but also sweet-smelling herbs were frequently used in zucanta- 
menta.| The pap. Par., in particular, gives an incantation to be 
made with myrrh (1498 ff.) which in many points corresponds 
quite closely with the amorous character of the Theokritean idy]l,’ 
especially with such lines as 


οὕτω τοι καὶ Δέλφις ἐνὶ φλογὶ σάρκ᾽ ἀμαθύνοι. 
Jouns Hopxins UNIVERSITY. Morris C. SUTPHEN. 
1 Eusebius, praep. evan. 5, 12, quotes inreference to the making of a figure 
of Hekate σμύρνης. καὶ στύρακος λιβάνοιό τε μίγματα τρίψας... αὐτὸς ἐπευχόμενος 


τήνδ᾽ εὐχήν. 
2 See Kuhnert, Rhein. Mus. 49, Ρ. 42. 


Ἶ Ἷ ᾿ 
fi 
Wal ἢ 





THE INTERPRETATION OF EURIPIDES’ 
ALCESTIS. 


No play of Euripides has given rise to a wider discussion, or 
been interpreted in more widely divergent ways, than the Alcestis. 
A good summary of the question is given in the former of Bis- 
singer’s two papers,’ with comments in the main judicious; but 
since that time the discussions of Bergk, (Literaturgeschichte, 3, 
Ρ. 494 ff.), of Wilamowitz, (Isyllos, Philologische Untersuchun- 
gen, Neuntes Heft), of Verrall, (Euripides the Rationalist), of 
Schone, (Ueber die Alkestis des Euripides, Kiel, 1895), and of 
Ebeling, (Transactions of the American Philological Assoc., 
1898), and the editions of Weil, Earle, and Hayley have shown 
that the last word has not yet been said. 

Measured as a great tragedy, every one must feel the Alcestis 
to be inadequate, whether one’s conception of a great tragedy be 
drawn from Aeschylus and Sophocles, or from Shakespeare. It 
does not offer us the spectacle of a great and heroic soul strug- 
gling against Fate, or against an inherited burden of guilt that 
has gone on increasing from generation to generation; we see no 
noble nature brought, through witting or unwitting sin, into cir- 
cumstances fraught with pity and terror; there is no grappling 
with great problems; no resolving of life’s enigmas; no portrayal 
of passions and resulting actions.? It is simply an affecting pic- 
ture of wifely devotion toa husband whom we feel to be unworthy 
of her, and of her restoration to him by Heracles. Yet, when one 
reflects, how stupendous the theme !—nothing less than Death 
and Resurrection. Moreover apart from this inadequacy in the 
treatment of the theme, we are told that in Admetus, Pheres, and 
Heracles, Euripides has given us characters wholly unworthy of 
tragedy. In particular, the intolerable baseness of the husband 
who accepts the wife’s sacrifice, and the cold selfishness on the 


1 Ueber die Dichtungsgattung und den Grundgedanken der Alcestis des 
Euripides, Erlangen, 1869-1871. 
* See Bissinger, 1, p. 9. 


330 AUGUSTUS TABER MURRAY. 


sides of both father and son in the odious scene between the two, 
are emphasized, and Heracles is stigmatized as a braggart and 
swash-buckler, who feasts like a sot and a glutton, and talks in 
maudlin, boisterous fashion in the house of his grief-stricken 
friend. As a result, some decry the play altogether, and while 
admitting, perhaps, the beauty of certain scenes, declare that it is 
preposterous to regard it as a work of art; while others, relying 
upon the notice of the didascalia that the play occupied the fourth 
place in the tetralogy, have considered it but as a substitute for a 
satyr-drama, and see in it, not perhaps an out-and-out comedy, 
but a nondescript play, in which, while the outward form of 
tragedy is retained, full scope is given to travesty, and the comic 
tone is purposely sought. This is plain, they say, in the charac- 
ters of Admetus and Heracles, in the scene between Pheres and 
Admetus (which on their view was added solely for comic effect), 
in that between Apollo and Thanatos, and in that in which Alces- 
tis is restored. 

This last view may be said to represent one extreme ; the other 
is that held by those who endeavor to save both play and poet by 
contending that the traditional view misinterprets entirely the 
character of Admetus: that, to the Greek, his action in accepting 
the sacrifice of Alcestis was not base and egoistic, but natural and 
proper. The purpose of this paper is to show that both of these 
views are untenable, and to point out a more reasonable inter- 
pretation. 

In approaching the question we should endeavor to put our- 
selves in Euripides’ position, and to understand his attitude 
toward his art, difficult as this unquestionably is in the case of an 
antique poet. A great dramatic artist, in the fullest sense of the 
word, he certainly was not; his plays are not perfect tragedies 
either of the ancient or the modern type. Powerful plays he 
could and did produce, distinctly great plays at times, displaying 
not only power but great art. Yetin most cases we feel something 
to be lacking, or are struck with the artificiality of the prologue 
or dénouement, or with triviality in detail. But with a decline in 
art, we note an astonishing advance in humanity, evinced, at 
times, in a fondness for dealing with situations which appeal to us 
by their very pathos; a phase of his work which is the more to 
be noted, because it gives rise to one of his most patent artistic 
defects—a tendency toward sensationalism, and to the elaboration 


INTERPRETATION OF EURIPIDES ALCESTIS, 331 


of certain scenes which attracted him strongly and which appeal 
to us strongly, at the expense of the effect of the whole. He is 
τραγικώτατος always, in season and out of season; and Aristotle’s 
famous phrase is not wholly complimentary. For the same reason 
we must be prepared for many an incongruity; we have left the 
antique, and, while tending toward it, have not reached the modern. 
Keeping the background of the heroic age, he gives us varied pic- 
tures of life, in tone oftentimes neither heroic nor Hellenic, but 
almost, if not quite, modern. And many a scene, rich in promise 
for the future, shows that the despised Euripidean art contained 
in itself the germs, and the partial fruition, of much that was to 
make the art of the future deeper and richer, in some respects, 
even than that of Aeschylus and Sophocles. 

Why then did he write an Alcestis, and why did not Sophocles? 
The answer is, I think, simple: the theme, looked at from any 
standpoint, offers inherent difficulties when regarded as a tragic 
theme. There is no conflict, nor, indeed, room for a conflict, 
unless it be between Heracles and Thanatos, and all will, I think, 
agree that Euripides chose the wiser and more artistic course, in 
limiting himself to the brief soliloquy in which the heroic resolve 
is taken, and the still briefer statement at the end. Or shall we 
say that Alcestis could have been made a genuinely tragic char- 
acter, and a struggle on her part between love and duty to her 
husband and a clinging to life, be made the essential action? Or 
Admetus himself, perhaps, blinded by ἄτη, and led on to a weak 
acceptance of another’s sacrifice? (The myth barely mentions a 
failure to sacrifice to Artemis,—a possible mo/z/, in the Aeschylean 
sense.) And, frame it as you will, the fact remains that a gen- 
uinely tragic conclusion is unattainable; not Euripides’ play alone, 
but the myth itself, εἰς χαρὰν καὶ ἡδονὴν καταστρέφει. 

But Euripides does not demand of a theme that it, of itself, offer 
material for a great tragedy in the strictest sense, and many of 
his plays cannot adequately be understood, so long as one at- 
tempts to wrest them into this form. Nay, he often takes sucha 
theme and makes something quite different out of it, (witness the 
Orestes). The theme before us offered him what he most desired 
—an opportunity to portray a beautiful character in a highly 
affecting situation. This he has wrought out with admirable art. 
It is to be noted, further, that the theme of vicarious suffering—or, 
if not vicarious, of suffering, or even death, voluntarily undergone 


332 AUGUSTUS TABER MURRAY. 


for the sake of others—seems to have been a favorite one with 
Euripides. In the extant plays we have many instances. That 
of Iphigenia may, perhaps, best be left out of the question, as it 
is not his peculiar property; although, with him, it is no mere 
incident but the theme of a whole play; but we think of young 
Menoeceus, in the Phoenissae; of Macaria, in the Heraclidae; 
of old Iolaus in the same play; of Andromache, leaving her place 
of safety at the altar, to save her child; and in the Iphigenia 
Taurica, we have first the generous rivalry between the two 
friends as to which shall die to save the other—a scene particu- 
larly suggestive because of the arguments by which Orestes pre- 
vails upon his friend to accept his sacrifice,—and then the sister’s 
resolve to save them though it cost her life, and the brother’s 
unwavering refusal to accept safety on these terms. So we may 
safely say that the strange legend of Alcestis was one strongly to 
attract Euripides, and that it attracted him because of its inherent 
human interest rather than as a subject upon which he could 
construct a drama which would satisfy all the requirements of 
Hellenic art. 

These are, in my opinion, the principles in the light of which 
the Alcestis is to be interpreted ; and to say, with Verrall, that it 
was written “to kill the legend,” or with Schone, that it is buta 
travesty of Phrynichus’ Alcestis, seems to me preposterous, and 
itself a travesty of literary interpretation. And now of the char- 
acters of Admetus and Heracles. 

That the former is one who has won the favor of a god, and 
that Apollo interests himself in his behalf, is a feature of the 
legend, and is told in the prologue; he is an ὅσιος ἀνήρ. Further, 
his boundless hospitality, under the most distressing circumstan- 
ces, is a Striking feature of the play. Yet, when all has been said, 
we still feel that he is lacking in the one thing needful,—that his 
acceptance of Alcestis’ sacrifice is base.’ But we are told that 
this is modern misinterpretation, that the Greek would not so 
read his character ; and this view must be discussed. 

It is put most pointedly by Way.’ ‘“ Admetus,” he says, ‘“‘ was 


1 For a survey of the various means by which modern poets have en- 
deavored to avoid this feature of the story, see Ellinger, Alceste in der 
modernen Litteratur, Halle, 1885. But, after all, what one of the modern 
versions of the legend would one choose in preference to that of Euripides? 

?In the appendix to the first volume of his Euripides in English Verse. 
See also Sittl, Geschichte der griechischen Literatur, 3, p. 334. 


INTERPRETATION OF. EURIPIDES’ ALCESTIS. 333 


a noble character. 2. He was right in respect to the motif and 
incidents of the play. 3. He reaped the just reward of the good 
man.” And, in connection with the first of these postulates, he 
maintains that hospitality was “the highest social virtue recog- 
nized by a Greek;”’ that, beside such a trait, ‘‘conjugal affection 
shrank into insignificance,” and again says lateron: ‘‘ The espec- 
ial pathos of the situation to the audience lay in this, that the 
sacrifice of a young and happy woman was forced upon her by 
the cowardly selfishness, not of her husband, but of a miserable 
old man: that Admetus should not have found a substitute at all 
would have seemed monstrous.” 

Now in all this there is just thus much of truth, that the act of 
Admetus might appear less base to the Greek than it does to us. 
That, however, Euripides did not mean to idealize his character, 
that, on the contrary, such an idealization entirely misinterprets 
the play, I hold most strongly, and for the following reasons: 

(1) Such an assumption is unnatural. After making all allow- 
ance for the Greek glorification of youth as against age, and of man- 
hood as against womanhood, it remains true that human nature 
is essentially the same in all ages, and that the Greek tragedians 
are strikingly faithful in their portrayal of human nature. Now 
that men love their wives is not a modern sentiment. It is elo- 
quently voiced by the Homeric Achilles; it plays an important 
part in one of Euripides’ romantic dramas. Further, Euripides 
offers us in the Tauric Iphigenia a situation that is closely par- 
allel, and his treatment of it shows how far he was from feeling 
that it was the ‘‘duty” of a noble youth to allow a loving woman 
to die for him. (Iph. Taur. 1003-1011.) 

(2) The character of Admetus was not thus understood by 
that Greek of the Greeks, Aristophanes; but, on the contrary, 
his parodies show that he read it as we do. In the Thesmopho- 
riazusae, Euripides, not daring himself to plead his cause before 
the women, endeavors to induce Agathon to goin his place. The 
whole scene is paratragedic and the language strikingly Eurip- 
idean; Agathon’s refusal is phrased as follows: 

AT, Ἑὐριπίδη EYP. τί ἔστιν; AT. ἐποίησάς ποτε, 
χαίρεις ὁρῶν φῶς, πατέρα δ᾽ οὐ χαίρειν δοκεῖς ; 
EYP. ἔγωγε. AT. wh νυν ἐλπίσῃς τὸ σὸν κακὸν 
ἡμᾶς ὑφέξειν, καὶ γὰρ ἂν μαινοίμεθ᾽ av, 
ἀλλ᾽ αὐτὸς ὃ γε σόν ἐστιν οἰκείως φέρε. 


(Thesmo, 193-197.) 


334 AUGUSTUS TABER MURRAY. 


It is not that vs. 194 is quoted from the Alcestis that is the im- 
portant thing, but that Aristophanes puts Euripides in a situation 
corresponding roughly to that of Admetus, and makes the one 
whom he approaches in the hope of finding a substitute, ridicule 
his claims. This same verse (Alc. 691) is used by Aristophanes 
again in a scene (Nub. 1415) where he appears to be travestying 
the wrangle between Admetus and Pheres, and the brutal parody 
of Alc. 367 f. in Acharn. 893 f. may perhaps be taken as an indi- 
cation that the hollowness of Admetus’ protestations of love for 
the woman whom he none the less allows to die for him, was not 
unfelt even in antiquity. 

(3) This view seems to be absolutely untenable in the face of 
the scene with Pheres (vss. 614-738) ;' one who meant to idealize 
Admetus would not have gone out of his way to portray the base- 
ness of his act so mercilessly. 

(4) A sympathetic study of the earlier scenes of the play leads 
to the same conclusion. Alcestis is brought before us as she is 
about to bid farewell to life and life’s joys, and not for a moment 
does she waver or appear to regret her choice. Yet, true to 
Greek conceptions and true to nature, she does not belittle the 
joys she is leaving, nor does she belittle her sacrifice. And, 
throughout it all, there is no word of passionate farewell to the 
husband who wept and “waxed importunate in prayer,’ who 


1 This scene has been interpreted in the most strikingly divergent ways. 
Hartung said long ago (Eur, Restitutus, 1, p. 225), “ΙΧ credas fieri 
potuisse, ut risum movere voluisse Euripidem hanc patris filiique conten- 
tionem super probissimae mulieris funere institutam proponendo quisquam 
arbitraretur.’’ So, too, Bissinger calls the scene “keineswegs lachener- 
regend,’’ Weil, on the other hand, speaks of “la scéne vraiment comique 
entre Adméte et Phérés,’? and Haigh even says (Tragic Drama, p. 286) : 
“ΤῊ this well-known scene the unblushing egotism of father and son is 
depicted with humorous exaggeration,”’ and a little further on, he speaks 
of the ‘‘humorous situation.” Far truer are Schéne’s words (Ueber die 
Alkestis, p. 8), “ Wie man in dieser Szene etwas von humoristischem Tone 
hat finden kénnen, begreift sich schwer, Wer dieses Drama ernst nimmt 

wird weit eher geneigt sein, jenen Dialog vielmehr peinlich und 
brutal, als humoristisch anklingend zu finden.’’ Schéne’s inference seems 
to me, however, unsound. A great blot on the play the scene certainly is; 
but it has an important bearing on what follows, as Ebeling has pointed 
out. This fact, and Euripides’ fondness for a pointed debate must be 
borne in mind in interpreting it; and Wieland’s suggestion that Admetus 
is beside himself with grief is worth remembering. 


INTERPRETATION OF EURIPIDES ALCESTIS. 335 


pleads with her not to leave him, who cries out against the 
“fate” that robs him of a loving wife without whom life will be un- 
endurable. Almost all that she says directly to him is the calm, 
reflective speech, uttered with all the solemnity of approaching 
death, in which she shows him the freedom of her choice, and 
bids him respect her children and never to give them a step- 
mother to oust them from their rights. There is no passionate 
outburst, no word of love for him in all that she says; she does 
not even ask that he do this for her sake. Would it not appear 
that even in the heroism of her sacrifice the iron has entered into 
her soul: he can let her die ??* 

(5) Euripides plainly means us to seea change in Admetus’ 
character during the course of the play. I say “ plainly,” despite 
the fact that, in the face of much that has been written on the 
Alcestis, it may seem a strong statement, and it may be claimed 
that I am interpreting Browning, and not Euripides ;* but, to me, 
the matter admits of no doubt. Were one to say that Admetus 
comes back from the tomb a changed and chastened nature, it 
might indeed be objected that a modern conception was being 
substituted for the antique view. Changed and chastened in the 
Christian sense he certainly is not; but he comes back realizing | 
his loss, and realizing also that the fault is his own and not an- 
other’s. In the earlier part of the play he protests his love, begs 
Alcestis not to leave him, and bewails the “fate” that makes this 
sacrifice necessary. This, and, if we add protestations that he 
will prove faithful to her memory and that life will be a blank 
without her, this alone. He speaks of himself and of her as “two 
souls fordone by woe, who have committed no sin against the 
gods that thou shouldst die” (vs. 246 f.). He will not marry 
again; he cares not for more children; he but prays the gods 
that he may have joy of those he has, σοῦ yap οὐκ ὠνήμεθα (335) ; 
and this tone of indignant protest against his lot is strongly 
marked; it is a part of his egoistic nature. 


1That this is not to be interpreted merely as an instance of antique 
reticence, is plain from other passages in Euripides; see, e. g., the fine 
outburst in Iph. Ταῦτ, 708-710. 

2 Ebeling has rightly emphasized this, and has shown that this fact helps 
us in understanding the Pheres-scene; but I should hardly go so far as to 
assume that Euripides’ main purpose in writing the play was to criticise 
the conception of Admetus’ character as seen in the epic version. 


336 AUGUSTUS TABER MURRAY. 


But when he comes back from the tomb his eyes are opened. 
The maid-servant had said of him (vs.145): οὔπω τόδ᾽ οἶδε δεσπότης, 
πρὶν ἂν πάθῃ, and, when the chorus attempts to soothe him with 
the commonplace: ὡς πᾶσιν ἡμῖν κατθανεῖν ὀφείλεται, he answers: 


ἐπίσταμαί γε κοὺκ ἄφνω κακὸν τόδε 
é »+ εἰδὼς δ' abr’ ἐτειρό 1λ 
προσέπτατ᾽ " εἰδὼς δ' αὔτ᾽ ἐτειρόμην πάλαι. 


Yet, in a far different sense, he cries out in vs. 1068, 
ὦ τλήμων ἐγώ, 
ὡς ἄρτι πένθους τοῦδε γεύομαι πικροῦ. 
See also vs. 940. 


Now, instead of groaning at his “fate,” he sees where the fault 
lies. The chorus says (929) ἀλλ᾽ ἔσωσας βίοτον καὶ ψυχάν, but he 


answers: 
φίλοι, γυναικὸς δαίμον᾽ εὐτυχέστερον 
τοὐμοῦ νομίζω, καίπερ οὐ δοκοῦνθ᾽ ὅμως " 
τῆς μὲν γὰρ οὐδὲν ἄλγος ἅψεταί ποτε, 
πολλῶν δὲ μόχθων εὐκλεὴς ἐπαύσατο. 
ἐγὼ δ᾽ ὃν οὐ χρῆν ζῆν, παρεὶς τὸ μόρσιμον, 
λυπρὸν διάξω βίοτον " ἄρτι μανθάνω. 


This is the new key, ἐγὼ δ᾽ ὃν οὐ χρῆν ὥν. Life now has no 
charms for him, it will be λυπρός; ποῖ he knows what his foes 
will say of him, and, with what good reason, ἰδοῦ τὸν αἰσχρῶς ζῶντα 
(955 ff.). Verily, Pheres’ taunts have left an impression, and 
Admetus is in full earnest when he cries out (vss. 897 ff.) : 

τί μ᾽ ἐκώλυσας ῥῖψαι τύμβου 
τάφρον εἰς κοίλην καὶ μετ᾽ ἐκείνης 
τῆς μέγ᾽ ἀρίστης κεῖσθαι φθίμενον ; 
(Compare the passage beginning ζηλῶ φθιμένους, vss. 866 ff.) 

To call this last ‘ein lacherliches Gerede”’ is not sane criticism. 
At the same time it would be wholly wrong to assume that 
Euripides means us to see in the restoration of Alcestis a divine 
amende to a husband who is now worthy of her. Of this there 
is no suggestion. We are not even to think of her restoration 
as due to the nobility of her sacrifice, as though the gods them- 
selves gave her back.’ Heracles is but paying a debt to his 
friend, who had so generously entertained him, and had made 
nothing of his private grief. Thus there is a break in the action, 


1 Contrast Plato, Symposium 179 C, where a very different form of the 
myth is given. 


INTERPRETATION OF EURIPIDES ALCESTIS. 337 


as was indeed inevitable, and the mof#zf in the first part of the play 
is different from that in the last part; a dramatic blemish, no 
doubt, but one that, in Euripides, need not surprise us; he offers 
many parallels. 

These same considerations afford, it seems to me, the best 
answer to those who maintain that Admetus is a comic personage. 
These protestations of his in the first part of the play are not to 
be taken as a travesty of sincere affection. No, he is sincere and 
stricken with grief; but when the choice was made and the alter- 
native had been put before him by Apollo, he, the prince, honored 
and beloved even by the god, and still in the glory of youth and 
strength, had chosen—well, he had chosen life rather than death; 
and he rendered all honor to her who had bought his life at the 
price of her own. It was still in the future, and it had the divine 
sanction; but now the time is at hand, she is being taken from 
him, and he can but cry out against his “fate.” 

And now of Heracles, “der ungezogene Herkules.”' He is 
the central figure of the play as read by Browning; but, much as 
we admire the heroic figure of “‘ the Helper,” ‘the grand Benev- 
olence,” who does but “snatch repose” in the “interval ’twixt 
fight and fight again,” and all for man’s sake, we must admit that 
this is really hineininterpretirt. Euripides, in this play at least, 
has not a word of it 411. But when this has been said it remains 
true that the character is drawn from life. Heracles is the epitome 
of animal strength, somewhat slow of wit, but fearless in danger 
and shrinking from nothing. He makes little of what he has 
done, and talks lightly of the labor he is now on his way to per- 
form. He honors his friend and is quick to make return for the 
entertainment given him at the cost of a struggle from which any 
other than Admetus would have shrunk. We see him in relaxa- 
tion, or rather, in the first place, we are told of him by a servant; 
and it is to be noted that this servant is overwhelmed with grief 
at the loss of a loved mistress, whose kindness had been marked 
(vss. 193 ff.), and whom he would fain have followed to the tomb 
instead of serving this reveller (vss. 765 ff.). Is it to be expected 
that he will give a sympathetic picture of the feasting hero ?* 


1 Wieland, Briefe iiber das neue Singspiel Alceste. 
2 See Verrall’s vivacious travesty, Euripides the Rationalist, p. 19. 
3In this Euripides appears as the artist rather than the man; for his own 
temper was, all tradition says, like that of the servant, and he was no lover 
22 


338 AUGUSTUS TABER MURRAY. 


So, between the setting out of the funeral procession and the 
return of the now really grief-stricken husband, Euripides has 
inserted a scene of distinctly lighter tone. He has represented 
Heracles, who is soon to go forth to wrestle with Death himself, 
as feasting and drinking in the house of mourning, and bidding 
the gloomy servant join his revels. An instructive fact, surely, 
coming from Antiquity. The blending of the serious and the 
lighter tones has no extensive range on the Greek tragic stage; 
there are touches here and there, but that is all. In the Alcestis, 
for the first time, we see a whole scene so treated. Shall we 
with Shakespeare before us, say that this is inconsistent with 
tragic dignity? This very scene has, by French critics* been put 
side by side with that in Romeo and Juliet where Peter and the 
musicians jest with each other while Juliet lies dead, in semblance, 
in the adjacent chamber. They came for the wedding, they 
serve for the funeral; and meanwhile they jest and banter. Or 
shall one say that we have here not tragedy but tragi-comedy, a 
form alien to the spirit of Hellenic art? Yet that very phrase is 
Hellenic, it is Plato’s, τῇ rod βίου ξυμπάσῃ τραγῳδίᾳ καὶ κωμῳδίᾳ, Phile- 
bus, 50 B, and, apart from all false realism, Euripides gives us 
here a genuine reflection of human life.’ 


LELAND STANFORD JUNIOR 


Gas AvuGuSTUS TABER MURRAY. 


of professional athletes. Yet he sketches the character sympathetically, 
and points it by the splendid soliloquy, vss. 837 ff. Those who will have 
it that Heracles gets drunk and so disfigures the play, must not disregard 
the fact that in such a scene Euripides has Aeschylus for a predecessor 
see Athenaeus, 10, 428 F, One must not forget the position of the play in 
the tetralogy, or that Ἡρακλῆς πεινῶν was a stock figure. 

1 See Patin, Euripide, 1, p. 216. 

2In the same spirit the scene between Apollo and Thanatos should be 
interpreted, and the concluding scene as well. The ‘“‘comic’’ tone some 
have found in these is to me unimaginable. Thanatos is grim, not “ plump” 
(Wilamowitz), and the verbal duel between him and the god of light a fit 
prelude tothe play. As for the silence of Alcestis, what was she to say? 
(Cf. Tennyson, In Memoriam, XXXI.) Heracles’ testing of Admetus may 
perhaps be playful, but it is to be noted that it leads him to reiterate the 


very promises he had before made to Alcestis—and how much more they 
mean now! 


CHIASMUS IN THE EPISTLES OF CICERO, 
SENECA, PLINY AND FRONTO. 


Chiasmus occurs in the Epistles of Cicero, Seneca, Pliny and 
Fronto in about eight hundred and fifty passages. A more 
careful search might add further examples, but this number—for 
Cicero 300, Seneca 225, Pliny 260, Fronto 65'—is complete 
enough to represent fairly the usage of these writers. In another 
paper, I gave a systematic division of the examples of chiasmus 
in Sallust, Caesar, Tacitus and Justinus,’ and in the following 
study, the divisions will correspond to those there used. That each 
citation will not show a conscious arrangement for the purpose 
of producing the chiasmus is altogether likely, especially in cases 

‘where intervening words may have somewhat weakened the im- 

pression made by placing together similar terms. The euphony 
resulting from different combinations must have had great in- 
fluence in determining the arrangement. As, however, in the 
majority of my examples one member of the chiasmus imme- 
diately succeeds the other, without apparent violation of euphony, 
the changed order must, in such instances, be considered as a 
conscious use of the figure. 

Freedom in the use of chiasmus seems to depend ona conscious 
rhetorical development in the style of the individual writer. In 
those epistles of Cicero which were most freely and rapidly writ- 
ten chiasmus does not often occur. The short compact sentences, 
written to convey facts and not to display rhetoric, practically 
preclude its use. The different works of Seneca, however, have 
all the same character, and to all may be applied the words of 
Quintilian 10, 1, 130 si rerum pondera minutissimis sententiis non 
fregisset. Any page will give examples of this style of his with 
its short clauses and excessive use of anaphora, e.g., Ep. 1, 1 


1In the case of Cicero and of Fronto, some of the examples are found in 
the letters of their correspondents, and the few of these which have been 
quoted are enclosed in parentheses. 

2Chiasmus in Sallust, Caesar, Tacitus and Justinus, J. H. U. Diss., 
Northfield, Minn., 1891. 


340 RB STBALE, 


quaedam tempora eripiuntur nobis, quaaedam subducuntur, quae- 
dam effluunt. turpissima tamen est iactura quae per neglegen- 
tiam fit. 

The Panegyricus of Pliny is thoroughly rhetorical and contains 
more examples of chiasmus than his epistles. Fronto’s style is 
somewhat like that of Seneca. His work opened at random (ad 
Amicos 1, 8, p. 180, Naber) shows this: Ama eum, oro te. 
Cum ipsius causa hoc peto, tum mea quoque. Nam me etiam 
magis amabis, si cum Pio familiarius egeris. Ep.ad amicos 1, 11 
(p. 181, Naber) is similar in style: Figurae orationis sunt quae 
maxime orationem ornant. Duplex autem genus est figurarum: 
aut enim verborum figurae sunt aut sententiarum. In figuris 
verborum est tropos, metaphora. In contrast with this, observe 
the passage ad Aurel. Caes. I. (pp. 113-14) in which thirteen 
lines are made up of successive pairs of words, containing a few 
instances of chiasmus. So also in his Greek epistles, e. g. p. 247, 
2 ἔνθα οὔτε 6 τόπος τῶν δικαστηρίων, οὔτε τῶν δικαζόντων ὁ ἀριθμός, οὔτε 


, rt ΄ 4 , w+ ~a @ \ 4 
τάξις τῶν φάσεων καὶ κλήσεων, οὔτε τοῦ ὕδατος TO μέτρον. 


CICERO. 


The few adverbs used in chiasmus are chiefly those of time; 
e. g. ad Att. 8, 1, 3 umquam, semper; 9, 6a, 1 feci saepe, saepius 
facturus; 13, 30, 2 hodie, cras; ad Fam. 3, 12, I prius, deinde; 
4, 6, I saepe, numquam; ad Quint. Frat. 1, 3, 3 aliquando, 
umquam. The Ep.ad Octavianum, formerly attributed to Cicero, 
furnishes two examples ‘sui generis’: 1 iam, deinde; Io primo, 
post. The adverbs are made the extremes with but few exceptions, 
as ad Fam. 2, 7, 1 longe enim absum, audio sero. 

Repetition of the same word and the use of contrasted terms 
seem to have been the dominating factors in the chiastic arrange- 
ment of nouns and adjectives: ad Att. 7, 7, 4 tranquilla, tranquil- 
lissimus; ad Brut. 1, 3 a, 1 consules duos, bonos quidem, sed 
dumtaxat bonos consules amisimus; ad Att. 5, 1, 4 lenius, asperius; 
ad Fam. 3, 11, 4 leviora, maiora; 5, 15, 4 perpetuam, exiguam ; 
11, 27, 2 mihi utile, nec inutile ipsi Caesari. Ad Fam. 1, 4, I 
acerbum Curionem, Bibulum multo iustiorem; but 1, 7, 2 Hor- 
tensium percupidum tui, studiosum Lucullum; 7, 23, 2 aptum 
bibliothecae studiisque nostris congruens. 

The personal element in the epistles accounts for the large 
number of pronouns used in chiasmus: ad Att. 1, 16, 3 ex eventu 


CHIASMUS IN THE EPISTLES OF CICERO, ETC. 341 


ab aliis, a me ex ipso initio; 3, 23, 4 tibi, aliis; 5, 10, 5 in te, 
in nos; 6, 3, 5 nonin Pompeium prolixior per ipsum quam per 
me in Brutum; 12, 7, 1 liberalitate mea, sua libertate; 14, 20, 4 
tibi, mihi; ad Fam. 10, 28, 3 illa ex aliis,a me pauca; 11, 27, 2 
dilexi te, meque ate diligi iudicavi; 15, 4, 12 inimicum meum, 
tuum inimicum. Ad Att. 2, 1, 11 te expectat et indiget tui; ad 
Fam. 4, 5, 6 in te amor fuit pietasque in omnis suos. 

In combining verbs with dependent nouns no preference in 
arrangement whether as means or as extremes seems to have 
been shown: ad Att. 9, 5, 3 cogito, cogito; 10, 8, 5 fugiamus, 
fugeremus; 13, 22, 3 aut obsoletum Bruto, aut Balbo inchoa- 
tum; ad Fam. 6, 6, 4 utebar familiarissime Caesare, Pompeium 
faciebam plurimi; 10, 8, 6 (confirmare salutem, periculum 
morari); ad Quint. Frat. 1,3, 3 amabat ut fratrem, ut maiorem 
fratrem verebatur. Ad. Att. 7, 21, 1 Capua discessi et mansi 
Calibus; 9, 12, 3 nos vivimus, et stat urbs; ad Fam. 12, 7, 2 
in senatu disserui, dixi in contione. Similar in arrangement 
are the passages in which there is a dependent clause or 
infinitive: ad Att. 2,9, 3 male vehi malo alio gubernante quam 
tam ingratis vectoribus bene gubernare; 9, 2, 1 gaudere ais te 
mansisse me et scribis in sententia te manere; 9, 6, 5 proximae 
gaudere te ostendunt me remansisse; 12, 48, I te venturum scrip- 
sisti et addidisti te putare opus esse; 13, 20, 4 non possum non pro- 
bare et tamen non curare pulchre possum; 13, 48, 2 cures velim, 
velim mittas; ad Fam. 5, 12, 4 et reprehendes ea, quae vituperanda 
duces, et, quae placebunt, . . . comprobabis; 6, 21, 1 aut 
interitum adlatura esset, si victus esses, aut, si vicisses, servitutem; 
7, 27, 2 non enim ingrata mihi sunt, quae fecisti, sed, quae 
scripsisti, molesta; 7, 32, 2 derideri te putas; nunc demum 
intellego te sapere; Quint. Frat. 2,14, 2 faceres, quod velles, ego 
ipse quid vellem, ostenderem. 

Examples of chiasmus with pairs of nouns or adjectives which 
govern genitives are frequent: ad Att. 8, 6, 3 malo Tironis vere- 
cundiam in culpa esse quam inliberalitatem Curi; ad Fam. 8, 3, 2 
(quod ad Philotimi officium et bona Milonis attinet); 15,14, 3 cum 
pro rerum magnitudine, tum pro opportunitate temporis. Ad 
Fam. 5, 12,7 ad laetitiam animi, ad memoriae dignitatem ; 10, 10, 2 
non invitamentum ad tempus, sed perpetuae virtutis est praemium. 

Chiastic arrangement of successive pairs of nouns dependent on 
the same verb is rare: ad Att. 9, 10, 3 me meis civibus famem, 


342 R. 8. STEELE, 


vastitatem inferre Italiae? 13, 52, 2 Puteolis se aiebat unum 
diem fore, alterum ad Baias; 4, 8, 1 hoc scito, Antium Buthrotum 
esse Romae, ut Corcyrae illud tuum Aztium; 5,1, 3 in Arcano 
Quintus ... ego Aquini; ad Fam. 5, 12, 7 Timoleonti a Timaeo 
aut ab Herodoto Themistocli; Quint. Frat. 1, 3, 1 flens flentem, 
prosequentem proficiscens dimiseras. 

In most instances prepositional phrases in chiasmus are placed 
together: ad Att. 3, 7, 3 accedemus in Epirum, per Candaviam 
ibimus; 6, 6, 2 largitio fuit in cives, sed in hospites liberalitas ; 
14, 12, 3 remotum a dialecticis, in arithmeticis satis exercitatum ; 
ad Fam. 5, 12, 4 optabiles in experiendo, in legendo iucundae. 

Successive pairs of words which form a chiasmus are compara- 
tively common: ad Att. 1, 14, I non iucunda miseris, inanis im- 
probis, beatis non grata; I, 16, 9 manet . .. consensio, dolor 
accessit, virtus non imminuta; 5, I, 5 mandata exhaurias, scribas 
ad me omnia, Pomptinum extrudas; ad Fam. 2, 8, 1 scribent alii, 
multi nuntiabunt, perferet multa etiam ipse rumor; 15, 4, 2 biduum 
Laodiciae fui, deinde Apameae quadriduum, triduum Synnadis, 
totidem dies Philomeli; ad Quint. Frat. 1, 1, 11, 32 esse abstinen- 
tem, continere omnis cupiditates, suos coercere, iuris aequabilem 
tenere rationem, facilem se . . . praebere. 

A few instances are found with groups of three or more words: 
ad Att. 1, 19, 4 sentinam urbis exhauriri et Italiae solitudinem 
frequentari; 7, 21, 1 fugam ab urbe turpissimam, timidissimas in 
oppidis contiones, ignorationem adversarii; 11, 17 a, 3 ne profec- 
tum quidem illim quemquam post Idus Martias, nec post Idus 
Decembr. ab illo datas ullas litteras; ad Fam. 1, 1, 2 tuorum in se 
officiorum et amoris erga te sui; 3, 10,6 alienum tempus est mihi 
tecum expostulandi, purgandi autem mei necessarium; 1, 7, 9 
magna est hominum opinio de te, magna commendatio liberali- 
tatis, magna memoria consulatus tui; ad Quint. Frat. 1, 1, 2, 7 
exsistunt graves controversiae, multae nascuntur iniuriae, magnae 
contentiones consequuntur; 1,1, 1, 5 nullas, ut opinor, insidias 
hostium, nullam proelii dimicationem, nullam defectionem soci- 
orum, nullam inopiam stipendii aut rei frumentariae, nullam sedi- 
tionem exercitus pertimescimus. 


SENECA. 


Chiasmus is not a very prominent feature in the style of Seneca. 
In adverbs it is found most frequently with primum, deinde, 


CHIASMUS IN THE EPISTLES OF CICERO, ETC. 343 


Ep. 28, 10; 29, 5; prius, deinde, 44, 1; 65, 15; 116, 3 inbecillus 
est primo omnis adfectus, deinde ipse se concitat et vires . . . parat. 
Scattering examples with other adverbs also occur: Ep. 82, 13 
Cato honestissime, turpissime Brutus; 104, 14 petierant cupidis- 
sime loca, cupidius deserunt; 114, 8 hominis interdum, interdum 
temporis. There are also a few instances in which the adverbs 
are arranged as the extremes; Ep. 14, 15 aliquando innocentes, 
nocentes saepius; 20, 3 se domi contrahunt, dilatant foris; 43, 3 
non ut tutius vivamus, sed ut peccemus occultius; 95, 5 recte 
faciunt, nesciunt facere se recte; 99, 24 effusissime flere, memi- 
nisse parcissime. 

Adjectives are often arranged chiastically, the nouns which they 
modify being generally placed together: Ep. 90, 16 tactu mollia 
et inpenetrabilia ventis; 116, 5 alteri emancipatam, vilem sibi; 
116, 4 regredi facile, optimum progredi; 117, 18 si algor malum 
est, malum sit algere; 119, 11 corporibus electa, spectabilis cultu ; 
80, 3 solem ardentissimum in ferventissimo pulvere; 92, 7 bene 
homini, si palato bene; 97, 9 plurimum libidini, legibus minimum ; 
70, 14 unum introitum, exitus multos; 70, 27 varios accessus, 
finem eundem; 9, 7 fructuosior adulescentia, sed infantia dulcior. 
Note also Ep. 100, 12 sine commendatione partium singularum in 
universum magnificus. 

The use of pronouns in chiasmus shows nothing remarkable: 
Ep. 23, 2 felicitatem suam in aliena potestate;’ 70, τὸ illo saeculo 
quisquam aut ipse ullo; 95, 56 discendum de ipsa est ut ipsa dis- 
catur; 121, 23 tutelam sui et eius peritiam; 37, 1 honestissimi 
huius et illius turpissimi; 108, 17 dissimilis utrique, utrique 
magnifica; 32, I inquiro in te et ab omnibus sciscitor; 54, 4 hoc 
erit post me, quod ante me fuit; 69, 6 illa ad nos, ad illam nos; 
98, 1 illa ex nobis, non ex illis nos. Ina few passages the pro- 
nouns form the extremes: 10, 2 de te sperem, spondeam mihi; 
34, 4 inter se congruant ac respondeant sibi; 94, 31 altera in 
totum, particulatim altera; 109, 12 alienam virtutem exercendo, 
exerceat suam. 

Very few instances occur in which a genitive forms one of the 
terms in the chiasmus: Ep. 11, 6 condicio nascendi et corporis 
temperatura; 55, 3 amicitiae Asinii Galli, Seiani odium ; 84, 4 ros 


1Compare Ep. 13, 5 suis viribus, inbecillitate nostra, and 47, 20 suarum 
virium et inbecillitatis alienae where sus is placed before its noun. 


344 R. 8. STEELE. 


illius caeli aut ipsius arundinis humor; 95, 22 multa auxiliorum 
genera, periculorum paucissima ; 74, 11 vitae odium, timor mortis ; 
81, 9 verborum proprietas, consuetudo sermonis ; 82, 18 peiorum 
metu aut spe bonorum. Pairs of nouns dependent on the same 
verb, show a chiastic arrangement frequently: Ep. 117, 17 sapere 
sapientiae usus est, quomodo eloquentiae eloqui. Ofthe cases, the 
nominative and accusative occur most commonly: Ep. 16, 8 exi- 
guum natura desiderat, opinio inmensum ; 22, II paucos servitus, 
plures servitutem ; 24, 5 ad occupanda pericula virtus, crudelitas ad 
inroganda; 80, 2 quam multi corpora exerceant, ingenia quam 
pauci; 94, 66 Marius exercitus, Marium ambitio; 105, 8 tutum ali- 
qua, nullasecurum. There arealsoa few scattered instances with 
other cases: 24,5 Porsenna Mucio.. . sibi Mucius; 53, 11 ille 
beneficio naturae non timet, suo sapiens; 97, 16 multos poena, 
metu neminem; 98, ro nihil irmum infirmo, nihil fragili aeternum; 
108, 34 Ennium Homero, Ennio Vergilium. 

About one-half of the instances of chiasmus with only two 
pairs of words, are formed by verbs and the nouns which they 
govern, the nouns being most frequently placed together: go, 3 
colere divina, humana diligere; 94, 33 expelle falsas, veras repone ; 
114, 7 pepercit gladio, sanguine abstinuit; 124, 16 conprendit 
praesentia, praeteritorum reminiscitur, but with the opposite 
arrangement 74, 12 praesentibus gaudet, concupiscit absentia. In 
some passages the verb is repeated: Ep. 68, 13 credituri fuimus 
rationi, experientiae credimus; 71, 26 cadere in hominem, in se 
cecidisse; 74, 20 placeat homini, deo placuit. In such cases the 
verbs are generally placed together: 3, 3 committas, committere; 
19, 8 accesserit, accedet; 51, 8 cessero, cedendum est; 52, 9 
fiant faciantque; 105, 6 tacuerit, tacebit. In the remaining in- 
stances some of the verbs are contrasted : 49, 9 mors me sequitur, 
fugit vita; 120, 9 factum laudavimus, contempsimus virum; 24, 
13 persona demenda et reddenda facies. The contrasted terms 
are sometimes arranged on the extremes: 71, 8 mala fortuna vin- 
citur et ordinatur bona. 

Infinitives or clauses frequently form chiasmus with the verbs 
on which they depend: Ep. 5, 7 desines timere, si sperare desieris ; 
14, I nego indulgendum, serviendum nego; 59, 5 loqueris quantum 
vis et plus significas quam loqueris; 94, 41 non deprehendes .. . 
prosit, profuisse deprehendes; 94, 45 prodest qui suadet, et qui 
monet proderit; 99, 4 quid doles amisisse, si habuisse non prodest; 


CHIASMUS IN THE EPISTLES OF CICERO, ETC. 345 


48, 1 seducere me debeo et quid suadeam circumspicere; 81, 29 
non quia concupiscenda laudantur, sed concupiscuntur quia lau- 
data sunt; 114, 4 cupierit videri ... latere noluerit; 111, 3 minus 
adparet longe intuentibus, cum accesseris manifestum fit; 61, 3 
quicquid necesse futurum est repugnanti, volenti necessitas non 
est; 88, 22 dehiscentibus, quae cohaerebant, aut his, quae dista- 
bant, coeuntibus, aut his, quae eminebant, residentibus. 

Prepositional phrases in chiasmus are arranged both as the ex- 
tremes and as the means: Ep. 66, 24 amicitia in hominibus, in 
rebus adpetitio; 71, 20 haec de omnibus, de hac nulla; 78, 14 
deploratus a meis, a medicis relictus; 89, 8 nec philosophia sine 
virtute nec sine philosophia virtus ; 90, 35 civem extra patriam, 
extra mundum deos; 93, 1 multos inveni aequos adversus homi- 
nes, adversus deos neminem. 19, 2 in freto viximus, moriamur in 
portu; 71, 17 in bonis numeres, numerabis in malis; 84,1 de 
inventis iudicem, et cogitem de inveniendis; 87, 25 ex malo 
bonum ... ficus ex olea; 91, 5 ex amico inimicus, hostis ex 
socio. Here also may be placed 66, 1 ad cetera contemnenda 
a contemptu sui. 

Chiasmus with three or more successive pairs of words occurs 
more frequently in Seneca than in the other authors here exam- 
ined: Ep. 11, 7 deiciunt enim vultum, verba summittunt, figunt in 
terram oculos; 15, 2 occupatio exercendi lacertos et dilatandi 
cervicem ac latera firmandi; 24, 8 minus sanguinis, minus virium, 
animi idem; 66, 8 nihil invenies rectius recto, verius vero, tem- 
perato temperatius; 68, 8 pedem turgidum, lividam manum, aridos 
nervos; 24, 26 diem nox premit, dies noctem, aestas in autumnum 
desinit, autumno hiemps instat ; 41, 4 interritum periculis, intactum 
cupiditatibus, inter adversa felicem, in mediis tempestatibus 
placidum; 117, 31 incendium domus et periculum liberorum et 
obsidio patriae et bonorum direptio. 

Groups of three or more words which form a chiasmus are also 
common in this author. One word has generally the same rela- 
tive position as the corresponding word in the second group: Ep. 
13, 5 alios inter flagella ridere, alios gemere sub colapho; 13, 12 
nulla causa vitae, nullus miseriarum modus; 51, 5 Hannibalem 
hiberna solverunt . . . illum virum enervaverunt fomenta Cam- 
paniae; 74, 25 non facit adiectio amici sapientiorem, non facit 
stultiorem detractio; 94, 23 puta avaritiam relaxatam, puta ad- 
strictam esse luxuriam; 104, 4 securior sui tutela, et vitae usus 


246 PE NST ΣΝ 


animosior; 124, 22 effuderis more Parthorum vel Germanorum 
modo vinxeris. 8, 5 cibus famem sedet, potio sitim extinguat, 
vestis arceat frigus. 23, 4 hilariculo mortem contemnere? pauper- 
tatidomum aperire? voluptates tenere sub freno? meditari dolorum 
patientiam? 29,7 moveat ille mihi risum, ego fortasse illi lacrimas 
movebo. 66, 4 non deformitate corporis foedari animum, sed 
pulchritudine animi corpus ornari; 76, 35 alii diu patiendo levia 
faciunt, hic levia facit diu cogitando; 86, 21 ne quemadmodum 
Aegialus me sibi adversarium paravit, sic ego parem te mihi. 76, 
14 ad secandum subtilis acies est et mucro munimentum omne 
rupturus. 
PLINY THE YOUNGER. 

The variety of feeling, ranging from the frank, unrhetorical state- 
ments in some epistles to the artificiality of others which were com- 
posed with greater care, makes Pliny’s letters an excellent though 
a limited field for study. That the use of chiasmus was recognized 
by Pliny as a part of his rhetorical art is indicated by its frequency 
in the Panegyricus, which, with the two epistles to Tacitus, 6, 16 
and 20, will be considered in detail, since all three were carefully 
prepared. Pliny himself states to Tacitus the object he had in 
writing Ep. 6, 16, indirectly quoting from Tacitus, quo verius 
tradere posteris possis. Again the quotation from Vergil at the 
beginning of Ep. 6, 20 seems to herald an attempt to emulate in 
prose and on a smaller scale an artistic recital of the Aeneid. 

Adverbs, as is usual when the arrangement is chiastic, are placed 
together with but a single exception: P. 83 aut inconsultius uxor 
adsumpta aut retenta patientius. In a few instances the same 
adverb is repeated: 58 ita consules semper ut semper principes 
erant; 84 invicem, invicem; 91 simul, simul. With adverbs of 
time or place chiasmus is found at P. 11 lacrimis primum... 
mox templis; 88 optimi prius, deinde maximi; Ep. 6, 16, 6 inter- 


dum, interdum; 10 illuc, unde; 17 alibi, illic. In P. 29 a preposi- 


tional phrase is used in the second member of the chiasmus: quod 
genitum esset usquam, id apud omnes natum esse videretur. 

There are some noticeable examples of the chiastic arrangement 
of adjectives: P. 28 gaudentibus gaudens, securusque securis ; 
37 tributum tolerabile et facile heredibus dumtaxat extraneis, 
domesticis grave; 56 aut beneficio sterile aut vacuum laude; 56 
magnum est differre honorem, gloriam maius; 78 non nimium 
privatis quod principi satis est; 63 marcidi somno, cena redun- 
dantes. 6, 16, 17 faces multae variaque lumina. 


. 


CHIASMUS IN THE EPISTLES OF CICERO, ETC. 347 


The use of chiasmus to emphasize the personal or demonstra- 
tive element is fairly common, the pronouns being generally 
arranged together: P. 6 sollicitior tu, ille securior; 10 illud, illa; 
20 aliis, tibi; 55 nos, tu; 57 aliis, in se; 72 nec magis sine te nos 
esse felices quam tu sine nobis potes. 74 alius fortasse alium, 
ipsum se nemo deceperit . . . . precati sumus ut sic te amarent 
dii quaemadmodum tu nos. The arrangement of the pronouns as 
the extremes is far less frequent; P. 71 te mirer magis an impro- 
bem illos; 42 alienis mancipiis, civibus suis. 6, 16, 18 alios in 
fugam vertunt, excitant illum. 

Possessive pronouns are frequently placed together, though 
with sas, zoster and tuus the normal order may not be inverted: 
6, 16, 2 perpetuitati eius scriptorum tuorum aeternitas ; 12 timorem 
elus sua securitate; 6, 20, 10 tuus, tuus. P. 80 fortunis suis, tua 
existimatione; 80 utilitate nostra, tua laude. 

At times in the chiastic arrangement of verbs with nouns, repe- 
tition occurs: P. 43, donavit ... donasti; 66 deceptus est, 
decepit ; 67 invita suscipiat, susceperit invita; 68 scis tibi ubique 
iurari, cum ipse iuraveris omnibus; 76 sequerentur omnes et 
omnes improbarent. In other instances the most strongly con- 
trasted words are placed as the means in the chiasmus: 63 non 
consulatus detur sed abrogetur imperium. 53 neque enim satis 
amarit bonos principes qui malos satis non oderit ; 68 ibi intem- 
perantius amamus bonos principes, ubi liberius malos odimus ; 74 
dabat apud optimum principem quod apud malos detrahebat. 

Nouns with dependent genitives are usually arranged as the 
extremes: P, 24 securitatem olim imperantis et incipientis pudo- 
rem ; 70 nec poenis malorum sed bonorum praemiis; 56 urbis otio, 
sinu pacis. The chiastic arrangement is frequently used with 
pairs of words dependent on the same verb: 11 Tiberius 
Augustum ... Claudium Nero... Vespasianum Titus, Domi- 
tianus Titum ; 62 nemo omnes, neminem omnes fefellerunt; 6, 16, 
16 et apud illum ratio rationem, apud alios timorem timor 
vicit; 70 magistratus magistratu, honore honor petitur; ro tibi 
terras, te terris reliquit; 13 cum solacium fessis, aegris opem 
ferres ; 89 alteri triumphalia, caelum alteri; 31 nos Aegypto, nobis 
Aegyptum ; 10 imperator tu titulis et imaginibus et signis, ceterum 
modestia labore vigilantia dux et legatus et miles. 

There are but few instances of the chiastic arrangement of 
dependent clauses or of infinitives: P. 9 successor, etiamsi nolis, 


248 ROB STEELE. 


habendus est; non est habendus socius, nisi velis; 61 ut felicitatis 
est quantum velis posse, sic magnitudinis velle quantum possis. 
With prepositional phrases chiasmus is comparatively frequent : 
5 adversa ex secundis, ex adversis secunda; 9 provincias ex pro- 
vinciis, ex bellis bella; 13 a manibus ad oculos, ad voluptatem a 
labore; 43 scriberis ab amicis, ab ignotis praeteriris; 48 pallor in 
corpore, in ore inpudentia ; 73 sanguinis in ore, in animo pudoris; 
92 suffragator in curia, in campo declarator. 

Where three or more pairs of words occur in succession the 
order of the words is sometimes varied: P. 9 principi civis, legatus 
imperatori, filius patri; 60 vis constare reverentiam magistratibus, 
legibus auctoritatem, modestiam postulantibus? 16 interfuso mari, 
fluminibus inmensis, praecipiti monte; 15 mores gentium, regionum 
situs, Opportunitates locorum, aquarum temperiem; 81 lustrare 
saltus, excutere feras, superare iuga, gradum inferre; 25 negotiis 
aliquis, valetudine alius, hic mari, ille fluminibus; 25terras . . . ad- 
movere, spatia contrahere, intercedere casibus, occursare fortunae, 
omni ope adniti; 6, 20, 14 audires ululatus feminarum, infantum 
quiritatus, clamores virorum: alii parentes, alii liberos, alii coniuges 
vocibus requirebant. Successive groups of three or more words 
do not always exhibit a parallel arrangement : 32 sive terris divini- 
tas quaedam sive aliquis amnibus genius; 80 reconciliare aemulas 
civitates, tumentes populos . . . compescere, intercedere iniqui- 
tatibus magistratuum. 

The straightforward, business-like tone of the epistles to Trajan 
is noticeable and in them there are but few instances of chiasmus: 
Ep. 8, 1 oratione pulcherrima et honestissimo exemplo; 43, 2sump- 
tus levaretur et impleretur officium ; 73 de agnoscendis liberis et 
natalibus veris restituendis. Cf. 72 where the arrangement is 
anaphoric. Compare 81, 2 tuam statuam et corpora sepultorum, 
with 96, 6 imaginem tuam deorumque simulacra. 116, I qui viri- 
lem togam sumunt vel nuptias faciunt vel ineunt magistratum vel 
opus publicum dedicant. 

In the other epistles, chiasmus occurs less frequently, and only 
a few of the instances will be quoted. Adverbs are usually placed 
side by side: rursus, mox Ep. 2, 17,5; primum, mox 3, 3,7; 8,14, 
21; primum or primo, deinde 4, 15, 4; 7, 19, 1; 7, 27, 5; rursus, 
rursus 3, 9, 36; acriter, fideliter 4, 9, 2; altissime, humillime 6, 
24,1. There are but few instances of adverbs as the extremes: 
Ep. 6, 5, 5 frequentius singulis, ambobus interdum; 8, 14, 8 num- 


CHIASMUS IN THE EPISTLES OF CICERO, ETC. 349 


quam seria, tristia saepe; 8, 18, 8 diu vidua, mater olim; 9, 21, 4 
iterum rogabo, impetrabo iterum. 

In the arrangement of adjectives with nouns the words most 
strongly contrasted are placed together: Ep. 1, 6, I manus 
vacuas, plenas ceras; 2, 17, 10 grande, modica; 2, 13, 6 aut fidelius 
amico aut sodale iucundius. In a few instances the adjectives are 
repeated, Ep. 6, 25, 5 mira, mira; and an equivalent occurs 5, 3, 
11 multis gloriosum, reprehensioni nemini. In Ep. 8, 22, 3 nobis 
inplacabiles simus, exorabiles istis, the strongly contrasted adjec- 
tives have forced the pronouns to the extremes, as in Ep. 9, 22, 3 
ego non minus aeger animo quam corpore ille. Demonstrative 
and possessive pronouns with genitives are usually arranged in 
similar fashion: Ep. 2, 11, 14 audientium adsensu, sollicitudine 
mea; fic and z//e are so placed 5, 6, 43 hic Aeneae, Achillis ille: 
cp. 9, 33, 7 and 2,17, 7. A personal pronoun is usually placed 
in the emphatic position, e. g. 5, 18, 1 mihi, tibi; 8, 1, 3 ipse, nos; 
9, 7,2 tu, ego; 9, 12, 1 pater ille, tu filius; 9, 24, 1 iuvabit hoc te, 
me certe iuvat. 

Emphasis determines the position of verbs with nouns though 
repeated terms are placed together: Ep. 8, 8, 6 praebent, praebent; 
9, 6, 2 nunc favent panno, pannum amant; 8, 12, 1 colit studia, 
studiosos amat; 6, 6, 6 dicenti adsistit, adsidet recitanti; 6, 22, 
8 neque enim tam iucundum est vindicari quam decipi miserum; 
8, 10, I omittit, facit; 9, 13, II praesentibus confidis, incertus 
futurorum; 9, 13, 2 insectandi nocentes, miseros vindicandi. Here 
may be placed 9, 32, 1 scribere nolim, velim legere. 

Nouns with dependent genitives are placed as in the Panegyri- 
cus, the genitives forming the means, e. g. Ep. 1, 12, 4 pretia 
vivendi mortis rationibus; 3, 4, 9 simplicitas dissentientis, com- 
probantis auctoritas; 9, 6, 2 velocitate equorum, hominum arte. 
Chiasmus with pairs of nouns in other cases is not frequent: Ep. 1, 
23, 4 tribunum omnibus, paucis advocatum ; 3, 20, 9 multi famam, 
conscientiam pauci verentur ; 9, 13, 23 collega Certi consulatum, 
successorem Certus accepit. 

Prepositional phrases chiastically arranged are common: Ep. 2, 
14, 2 in foro pueros a centumviralibus causis auspicari ut ab 
Homero in scholis; 3, 9, 3 Priscus ex Baetica, ex Africa Classicus ; 
5, 6, 23; 5, 6, 37; 7, 5, 2 requies in labore, in miseria curisque 
solacium; 9, 13, 23 reddat praemium sub optimo principe, quod 
a pessimo accepit; 5, 21, 3 ex quaestura rediit, decessit in navi; 


350 R. 8. STEELE, 


6, 24, 4 se cum marito ligavit, abiecitque in lacum; 8, 14, 18 cum 
secunda prima, secunda cum tertia; 9, 4, 2 in universitate longis- 
simum, brevissimum in partibus; 9, 19, 4 tanta in praedicando 
verecundia quanta gloria ex facto. 

Chiasmus is of comparatively frequent occurrence when there 
are several successive pairs of words: 3, 1, 11 obiit officia, gessit 
magistratus, provincias rexit, otium meruit; 4, 7, 4 imbecillum 
latus, os confusum, haesitans lingua, tardissima inventio, memoria 
nulla, nihil denique praeter ingenium insanum; 4, 25, 4 poposcit 
tabellam, stilum accepit, demisit caput, neminem veretur, se con- 
temnit; 6, 11, 2 mira utrique probitas, constantia salva, decorus 
habitus, os Latinum, vox virilis, tenax memoria, magnum inge- 
nium, iudicium aequale; 6, 33, 8 copia rerum et arguta divisione et 
narratiunculis pluribus et eloquendi varietate; 9, 20 2 decerpere 
uvam, torculum invisere, degustare mustum, obrepere urbanis. 

Successive groups of three words present some variety in 
arrangement: Ep. 2, 11, I personae claritate famosum, severitate 
exempli salubre, rei magnitudine aeternum; 2, 17, 6 altera fenestra 
admittit orientem, occidentem altera retinet; 6, 5, 6 nam et Celsus 
Nepoti ex libello respondit et Celso Nepos ex pugillaribus; 8, 14, 
7 cum suspecta virtus inertia in pretio, cum ducibus auctoritas 
nulla nulla militibus verecundia; 8, 18, 6 mira illius asperitas, 
mira felicitas horum. 9,7, 4 haec unum sinum molli curvamine 
amplectitur, illa editissimo dorso duos dirimit. Here the first 
and last terms alone have the same relative position. 


FRONTO. 


Adverbs in chiasmus have the position as means p. 6 habeas in 
promptu, quod facile respondeas, or as extremes p. 45 aeque 
accipit, habitatur aeque; p. 135 si umquam me amasti sive ama- 
turus umquam es; p. 185 ut numquam venierit, veniat semper. 

Adjectives are most often placed as the means in the chiasmus, 
6. g. p. 41 “‘puerulum audacem” aut “temerarium consultorem ;”’* 
p. 131 delinquere humanum est, et hominis maxime proprium 
ignoscere ; p. 154 dulce esu, haustu iucundum; p. 155 parum e- 
loquentiae, sapientiae nihil; p. 229 curruli strepitu et cum 
fremitu equestri. 


1A quotation from the preceding letter to Fronto, temerarium consul- 
torem sive audacem puerulum, but he has changed the order of the words 
thus causing chiasmus. 


CHIASMUS IN THE EPISTLES OF CICERO, ETC. 35! 


With the exception of p. 24 versus, quos mihi miseras, remisi 
tibi, pronouns are placed together: p. 12 cocco alii, alii luteo; 
p- 19 meam tua; p. 164 (mallem mehercule Gyaris cum illa 
quam sine illa in Palatio vivere). Where chiasmus occurs of verbs 
with nouns the latter are usually placed as the extremes: p. 74 
ut frivolis finem faciam, et convertar ad serium; 188 praesens 
trepidaveris, trepidaverim absens. p. 170 cum dedisti procurationes, 
cum excusationes recepisti. 

No preference is shown in the arrangement of nouns with 
dependent genitives: p. 28 (decus eloquentiae, amicorum gloria); 
p- 46 socium dignitatis gloriae bonorumque omnium participem ; 
Ρ. 7: (vitium corporis, animi studium) ; p. 215 diffidentia formae, 
diligentiae inlecebras. p. 7 Baiarum specus, fornaculas balnearum ; 
8 feminae consiliis, vaticinationibus Sibyllae; p. 143 Achillei 
pernicitatem, debilitatem Philoctetae; p. 146 Alexini verba, verbis 
Platonis. Pairs of nouns form chiasmus on p. 98 terra urbem 
illam, animos audientium tua oratio moverit. 

Verbs with dependent infinitives in chiasmus occur on p. 4 
(metuo quicquam dicere quod tu audire nolis), and chiastic prepo- 
sitional phrases on p. 213 infrequentes a laudibus, verum in usu 
cultuque humano frequentissimos. 

Three or more pairs of words in succession forming chiasmus 
are comparatively frequent: p. 61 (verbum absurdius, inconsultior 
sensus, infirmior littera); p. 154 Libero thyrsi, corona Sileno, 
nymphis redimicula; p. 157 caudam cycni, capillum Veneris, 
Furiae flagellum ; p. 126 eloquentes ut oratoris, strenuae ut ducis, 
graves ut ad senatum, ut de re militari non redundantes; p. 106 
vel graves ex orationibus, vel dulces ex poematis, vel ex historia 
splendidas, vel comes ex comedis (so MS), vel urbanas ex togatis, 
vel ex Atellanis lepidas; p. 114 saevit Cato, triumphat Cicero, 
tumultuatur Gracchus, Calvus rixatur; p. 113 quid si Parrhasium 
versicolora pingere iuberet, aut Apellen unicolora, aut Nealcen 
magnifica, aut Nician obscura, aut Dionysium inlustria, aut 
lascivia Euphranorem, aut Pausiam [p]voe[I]ia? 

Groups of more than three words are occasionally found: p. 
204 bella duo maxima a duobus maximis imperatoribus; p. 33 
omnes meae fortunae et mea omnia gaudia; p. 14 (veram sensuum 
facultatem, elocutionis variam virtutem, inventionis aliquam novi- 
tatem, orationis dispositionem), is anaphoric excepting the posi- 
tion of veram in the first group; p. 8 ratio consiliorum prudentia 


352 R. B. STEELE. 


appellatur, vatum impetus divinatio nuncupatur; p. 177 quantum 
ex tua benivolentia Faustinianus ornamenti adsequetur, tantum 
tu voluptatis ex Faustiniani elegantia capies, in which the first and 
last terms are anaphoric, while the four intermediate terms form 
chiasmus in the order 1234 3412. 


SUMMARY. 


As has been pointed out, the repetition of words and the use 
of words strongly contrasted, influence the chiastic arrangement. 
In the use of the different parts of speech some of the writers 
show a preference for a certain arrangement. Adverbs are regu- 
larly placed as the means in the chiasmus by all the four authors 
with the exception of Fronto who has but few examples. With 
pairs of nouns and adjectives, Cicero and Pliny show no choice, 
Seneca prefers to place the nouns together, Fronto the adjectives. 
With the exception of Seneca, all use pronouns freely in chiasmus 
and regularly place them as the means. Seneca rarely uses pairs 
of nouns with dependent genitives, and only Pliny shows a pref- 
erence in arrangement with the genitives as means. When pairs 
of nouns with verbs form chiasmus, Seneca is inclined to place 
the nouns as means, Fronto as extremes. Seneca here shows the 
most extended usage as he also does with pairs of nouns dependent 
on the same verb. All four use chiasmus in the arrangement 
of dependent clauses, and all, except Seneca, prefer to place 
prepositional phrases together. As far as these authors are 
concerned, no difference due to personal preference is discernible 
in the arrangement of three or more successive pairs of words, 
nor in the case of groups of three or more words, unless we may 
say that Seneca seems to use the latter more freely than the 


others. 
VANDERBILT Univ.. NASHVILLE, TENN. R. B. STEELE. 


Ἃ 


ON CAUSES CONTRIBUTORY TO THE LOSS, OF 
THE OPTATIVE ETC. IN LATER GREER, 


Hatzidakis, in the course of his convincing argument for the 
essential identity of the modern with the ancient Greek, calls 
attention (Neugriechische Grammatik, p. 13) to the part played 
in the disappearance of words and forms by phonetic changes 
blurring the distinctions in sounds. 

An ingenious application of the combined effect of ‘itacism” 
and the loss of the spzrvztus asper is his explanation of the fact 
that the words és and ois, already in the usage of the New Testa- 
ment, had been replaced by χοῖρος and πρόβατον respectively 
because they had become indistinguishable in sound. | 

I do not know whether any one has ever made the obvious 
application of the principle here involved, in connection with the 
disappearance of the optative. Hatzidakis (I. c.) goes on to 
illustrate by the confusion, ‘ due to itacism,’ of forms of ἡμεῖς and 
ὑμεῖς which resulted in the development of new forms ἐμεῖς, ἐσεῖς, etc. 

In Lucian MSS, as elsewhere, the confusion between ἡμῶν and 
ὑμῶν is frequent and, as illustrative of this whole category of con- 
fusions, one may instance the v. ]. in Lucian, Piscator 5. A, ¥, B 
have ὁρᾶτε μὴ . . . ποιεῖτε While ©, YA, τ, Urb. have ὁρᾶτε wy... 
ποιῆτε. Sommerbrodt prefers the subjunctive, by virtue perhaps 
of the somewhat superior MS authority, but the context would 
seem to point to the indicative as more vivid and, with ‘itacism’ 
to reckon with, one may safely choose on other grounds than the 
mere overplus of MS authority. The same may be urged in the 
case of other homophones of the decadent pronunciation, i. 6. 


go he Cea σνεξ: ἃ ta yee | resale 1. — δ = ne ae | 
αιΞξ ε; ιΞξ ειἰιξξΞηξξϑυ ΞΞ οι Feat he Yr ἢ and ἃ, t, U = @y ly Ve Hence 


1Cf. Winer-Schmiedel,® Gram. des neutestamentlichen Sprachidioms, 
§5, τό, This confusion of these five sounds “ fiihrte in den Handschriften 
zu den eingreifendsten Verwechselungen.’’? For the whole discussion of 
‘‘itacism ” in the Ν, T. see pp. 43-47. E. g. cidy was even written for idy, 
though more frequently ἴδον for εἶδον. 

? On the confusion of o and a, of « and ἡ cf. Winer® ὃς, 19; 6. g. ἤμην 
and ἦμεν. This was brought to an end when 7 became identical in sound 
with ¢, while ‘* der Wechsel zwischen o und ὦ dauerte fort.’’ 


23 


354 FRANCIS G. ALLINSON. 


Hatzidakis (p. 306) says: “Es ist eine vollstandig verlorene 
Miihe, wenn man statistisch nachzuweisen sucht, welche Ortho- 
graphie fiir diese oder jene neue Form der spateren Zeiten iiblich 
war.” Examples follow illustrating the confusion of λέγεται = λέγετε, 
that of the fut. indic. and the subjunct. as in iva πληρώσει, that of o 
and ὦ aS in ἵνα δέξονται etc. 

On p. 13 Hatzidakis concludes: ‘‘ Vor allem ist aber dieser 
wechselseitige Einfluss bei den verschiedenen Kasus, Deklina- 
tionen, Personen und Modi bemerkbar, z. B. . . . λέγεις, λέγει, 
λέγομεν---λέγῃς, λέγῃ, AEyouer.” 

This statement would seem to involve the similar confusion in 

sound between forms of the subjunctive and optative but he draws 
this conclusion neither here nor on page 218. At the latter point 
(p. 218) one might well have expected the explicit statement but, 
although speaking of the disappearance of the optative,’ he-con- 
tents himself with the general remark that the subjunctive com- 
pletely supplanted the optative and then definitely attributes to 
the coincidence between εἰ and y—e. g. ποιήσεις and romons—the 
fact that the subjunctive has driven the future indicative out of 
use. 

But why may we not make the application of this phonetic 
blurring as contributory to the disappearance of the optative? 
The points of contact, cited above from Hatzidakis, between the 
indicative and subjunctive present, are three,—two due to ‘itacism,’ 
one to the leveling of the o and w. In the paradigms of the active 
present subjunctive and optative there are four points of contact 
due to itacism, i. 6., λέγῃς», λέγῃ, λέγητον λέγητε---λέγοις, λέγοι, λέγοιτον, 
λέγοιτ. The same confusion exists between the act. perfect subj. 
and optative, and while the forms of the aorist subjunctive and 
optative could only have been confused by way of the two-fold 
confusion,—» with ε, and then of ε = a,—yet the coincidence in 
sound between the four forms of the paradigms of the aor. subj. 
and the fut. opt. and two of the fut. indic. may be reckoned in, 
perhaps, as contributory. In the middle voice there is little con- 
fusion, and that not as significant as if in the third person, i. e., 
λέγησθον λέγησθε---λέγοισθον, λέγοισθε; SO the aor. pass. λεχθῆτον, 
λεχθῆτε---λεχθεῖτον, λεχθεῖτε. It may be remarked, however, that in 


1«Der Optativ ist schon dem N. T. fast vollig fremd... und die 
Atticisten machen seltenen oder verkehrten Gebrauch von ihm, was nichts 
anderes als ein Schwinden desselben in der Sprache beweist.” 


LOSS OF THE OPTATIVE ETC. INLATER GREER. 355 


the 2nd aor. act., 6. ρ΄. λίπῃς λίπῃ λίπητον λίπητε---λίποις λίποι λίποιτον 
λίποιτε, the same confusion of four forms of the paradigm exists 
between the subjunctive and optative, while, from the nature of 
the augmented tense, no confusion whatever exists between the 
indic. and subjunctive. The same may be said also of the 2nd 
perf. λελοίπῃς etc. The optative, it is true, was doomed to disap- 
pearance anyhow, but it seems not unlikely that these coinci- 
dences in sound may have been contributory to the process. 

It is a matter of surprise to find Lucian using, not infrequently, 
the optative for the subjunctive. Especially is this the case in final 
clauses after a primary tense—a case of ‘verkehrter Gebrauch’ 
(cf. Hatz., 1. c.) on the part of an Atticist.. One would like to 
maintain that Lucian could not have committed so obvious a 
solecism while so faithfully reproducing other more intricate 
niceties of Attic syntax. It would be tempting to think of these 
optatives as due to itacizing scribes, but no such application is 
possible here. Lucian not only makes this blunder in his most 
carefully finished works (e. g. Piscator, Charon, etc.), but out of 
seven instances in the Charon, §§1-9, for example, three only 
could under any circumstances be claimed as due to phonetic 
confusion with the subjunctive—i. 6. ἴδοις, κατίδοις, dpyor—the other 
four optatives are in the first person. Such distinctions, it is 
clear, had been blurred long since and Lucian, in resurrecting 
Attic ghosts, ferried back in Charon’s boat or let in with the 
ἀναβιοῦντες (cf. Piscator §$13, 15, 16, 44, 47) some very un-Attic 
optatives. 

On p. 206 Hatzidakis mentions various synonyms where the 
later Greek, ignoring many finer distinctions in vocabulary as 
well as syntax, has contented itself with retaining one only of a 
group of two or more. 

Mere poverty of imagination may in some cases have been the 
reason, but in others various causes, sometimes hard to guess, 
must have operated. That νέω (sw) should have been dis- 


1 For other deviations in the use of the opt. by Atticists in general see 
Schmid, Atticismus I, pp. 97-98; for Lucian see Schmid I, pp. 242-244, 
etc., and cf. Kriiger 54, 8, 3 for the use of the optat. with iva after primary 
tenses even in Attic authors where “‘im Haupttempus ein Prateritum mit zu 
denken ist oder aber rein Ideelles vorschwebt.”’ This, it may be assumed, 
is the entering wedge and, like other deviations from the Attic standard, 
this too has its origin in a distortion or an extension of a legitimate usage. 


3:6 FRANCIS G. ALLINSON. 


placed by πλέω (saz/) is hard to understand. One might rather 
have expected that νέω would have expanded to take in πλέω, 
but it is not unlikely that the number of meanings of vei (i. e. 
swims; spins; piles up) may have made it convenient to discard 
at least one meaning when the chance offered. Itacizing homo- 
phones of νεῖ, like the particle νή or a form like vot (νοῦς), present 
no points of contact. 

In another pair (H. p. 206), ὕει---ρέχει, it might seem as if 
itacism may have co-operated, after the sfzritus asper was lost, 
just as in the case of és and ois, in supplanting ὕει by βρέχει. In 
fact, ὕει would be indistinguishable from the following verbal 
forms: viz. (from εἶμι)----ἥει, ἴῃ, ἴοι; (from ἴημι)----εἴη and ἵει (δὲς 1. e. 
imperf. and imperat.); (from εἰμί) ---εἴη. While these verb forms 
have no contact in meaning with ὕει as in the case of és and ois 
there are here enough homophones to suggest the feeling, 
when pronouncing ὕει (eé-ee), that ‘it never rains but it pours.’ 
Hatzidakis, however, does not appeal to itacism as co-operative 
here, although he suggests it (p. 207) in the case of the confusion 
between κάθισον and κάθησο, which even in Lucian’s time (Pseudo- 
logista 811) “‘man nicht zu unterscheiden wusste.” 

One might perhaps add to his list the pair 6é@ and τρέχω. Of 
the former Veitch (s. v.) says: ‘‘In lexicons the usage is consid- 
erably understated.” Inthe N. T. 6é is not used, but it would 
be far-fetched to assume that homophones from τίθημι, 6. g. Subj. 
2nd aor. θῇς, θῇ, θῆτον, θῆτε, contributed to crowd out the indic. of 
θέω---θεῖς, θεῖ, θεῖτον, θεῖτε. 

Another interesting case of crowding out, dating at least from 
the time of Polybius (see Hatzidakis, p. 207, and for references cf. 
Winer-Schmiedel,* Gram. des neutestamentlichen Sprachidioms, 
II** Th., 826, 5, note 8), is that of the indefinite ris which is 
supplanted by εἷς. Possibly foreign Hellenists, losing the feeling 
for the accent, found it increasingly hard to distinguish between 
τὶς and ris. The interrogative ris, indeed, confused in usage with 
ποῖος, was itself disappearing—“ist fast vollig aus der Volkssprache 
verschwunden ” (H. p. 208). May not the shorter forms of ris, 
i. e. gen, and dat. του and τῳ, have co-operated through a confu- 
sion with the same forms of the article ? 


Brown UNIVERSITY. Francis G. ALLINSON. 


THE ETYMOLOGY AND MEANING OF THE 
SANSKRIT ROOT ID. 


In the Rig-Veda I. 1-2 we read as follows: 

Agnim ile purdhitam 

yajfidsya devém rivijam 

hétaram ratnadhatamam 

Agnih pirvebhir frsibhir 

idyo niitanair utd 

sa devan éhd vakgati. 
These two stanzas are usually translated: “Agni I praise, the 
purohita, the divine ministrant of the sacrifice, the hotar, the 
greatest giver of riches. Agni, worthy of being praised by the 
rshis of old and by those of the present time, will bring the 
gods hither.” 

It is often no easy task to interpret a Vedic word restricted in 
its meaning and referring to a single deity. We have to search 
for the sphere in which it is used and to determine to what deity 
it refers. With but one exception, this has not been done in the 
various attempts at explaining the etymology and meaning of the 
root zd. The root has been treated too much zz vacuo and its 
frequent discussion has been due to phonetic reasons, viz. the 
treatment of the sonant sibilant in Sanskrit. Cf. Bechtel BB. X. 
286; Bartholomae ibid. XII. 91; Arische Forschungen II. 78; 
Johansson IF. II. 47; Brugmann IF. I. 171 f. The last-named 
connects it with the root γ yaj (Greek dy-w-s) part. istd, evidently 
following out a suggestion made by Bezzenberger in Gdttinger 
Nachrichten for 1878, p. 264 n. 

But it seems to me that we cannot refer id, either with 
Bechtel, Bezzenberger and others, to Greek αἰδέομαι, αἴδομαι, Lat. 
aestimare < aezditumare, and Goth. distan, ga-distan on phonetic 
grounds, or to ¥_yaj as Brugmann has done. 

My reasons for not agreeing with the distinguished scholars 
mentioned will be seen later. A fairly complete literature on the 
subject can be found in SBE. XLVI. p. 4 to which may be added 


358 JENS A. NESS. 


the hints given by Benfey in the glossary to his edition of the 
Sama-Veda. 

As stated above, the cause of the frequent discussion of the 
word has been a phonetic one, viz. the treatment of the sonant 
sibilant in Sanskrit, a question which need not be entered into at 
this time. All these attempts must be regarded as unsatisfactory, 
because it has not been considered at all 1) to what divinity the 
word is applied, 2) to what sphere it belongs, and 3) with what 
other word or words it is correlated. The most recent explana- 
tion is that of Oldenberg in SBE. XLVI. p. 2 f. He translates 
it by “magnify,” considering z@ etymologically connected with 
zs ‘‘ food,” according to which its original meaning would be “to 
give sap, nourishment.” But this is as improbable as the other 
derivations referred to above. Oldenberg rightly observes, how- 
ever, that, although no god in the Vedic Pantheon is so highly 
and frequently praised by the poets of the Rig-Veda as Indra, 
with very few exceptions ¥ 7d is avoided in speaking of this god. 

The ninth mandala is devoted to the praise of Soma. Yet 
throughout the entire book id occurs but twice (5, 3; 66, 1), and of 
these one instance (5, 3) is contained in an 271 verse transferring 
to Soma such qualities as originally belong to Agni. On the other 
hand, in invocations addressed to Agni, this verb and its deriva- 
tives are most frequently used. 

To show how 7d and its derivatives had a connotation which 
qualified them to be used with Agni and not with Indra or Soma 
is difficult, if not impossible. It is probable that it may be due to 
the development of the myth, although it is hardly worth while to 
enter upon any discussion in regard to this matter. 

We may now explain the form of 7d. 

The root Vid < iz + d < ig + d with assimilation of the sibi- 
lant to the following sonant consonant, the 2 itself disappearing 
under the law of the existing language, which admits no sonant 
sibilant but causes a lengthening of the preceding vowel, if 
short, cf. Whitney §222c. This regularly occurs where Indo-Iran. 
2 and z follow a vowel; cf. Ascoli, Krit. St. 283 ff.; Hiibschmann, 
KZ. 24, 405 ἔξ; Bloomfield, Non-diphthongal e and o in Sanskrit.’ 


1 For a similar phenomenon in Germanic, cf. OE. med, “reward, pay,’’ 
OS. méda, OHG. méta, meata, miata, mieta. The Goth, mizdd corresponds 
exactly to the OE. az. Aey. meord. Cf. further Gr. μισϑός, OB. mizda, Streit- 
berg, UG. §79, 2. But see Sievers, PBr B. XVIII. 409. 


ETYMOLOGY OF SANSKRIT ROOT ID. 359 


Wackernagel, in his Altindische Grammatik ὃ 40, is uncertain 
whether to connect i@ with yyaj or ¥7g “to wish, choose:” “z 
aus 72 in v. 7d-,,anflehen” zu yaj-,,opfern” (oder zu 7$-,,wzn- 
schen”)”.. As additional examples may be cited ida < *nizd¢, 
pid < *piz-d < pis-d; mrd < mrz-d; cf. Skt. mrdikdm: Av. 
marazdikam; midhim < Indo-Iran. mizdha < Indo-Eur. migdha 
< Indo-Eur. mighta; vidi < vig + du < vis; sidati < sizdett 
(d for d by analogy, cf. Osthoff, Perf. 2 ff); see further Wacker- 
nagel, Altind. Grammatik §§ 40 and 238; Jackson, Avesta Gram- 
mar ὃ 783. 

id then is zg + a ‘determinative’ d through which the connection 
between δύ and 7s is effected and by which 2d is differentiated from 
the simple zs. The original signification of this root-determina- 
tive αἱ is uncertain; it may be, in some way, connected with the 
root ¥ da, to give. 

The key to the whole problem, and we need not go outside of 
Sanskrit, is found in the fact that on one hand vr interchanges 
with zs, on the other with zd. The question is how far zs in i@ 
has retained its original signification of wishing, choosing. It 
would be futile, of course, to deny that this word never has the 
meaning of honoring, praising, because what we wish we love, 
and what we love we honor. What we do claim is that the mean- 
ing of choosing is dominant in certain forms of 7d, and that the 
same forms of v7 are used in similar connections and applied, in 
most cases, to the same divinity. 

We will now give a few examples, showing the interchange of 
V or with zs and vid. 

In the Kaugika-Sitra 94, 2 we read: tatra raja bhimipatir 
vidvansam brahmadnam ichet and in 126, 2 of the same work: 
tatra raja bhamipatir vidvansam brahmanan vrniyat. In the two 
passages cited above we have the very best evidence that γ 18 and 
4/vr are used synonymously. The connection, too, is the same in 
both passages. Againin RV. VII. 93, 4: 

girbhir viprah pramatim ichémana 
itte rayim yagdsam piurvabhajam 


1 Max Miller SBE. XXXII. p. 354, is still more uncertain: ‘‘ Whether 
/id is distantly connected with ./7§=z to desire (Brugmann I. 591), or with 
ard=to strive, or with av =to go, is a question which admits of many or of 


no answer.’’ 


360 JENS A. NESS. 


where iffe clearly=vrnilé ; this passage is of additional interest 
in that γ id (Zffe) is used side by side with γ᾽ 8 (¢chamana). For 
further passages where f7s= γ 7 cf. RV. III. 30,1; IX. 112, 1. 

But it is especially in the gerundive forms idénya, vdérenya 
that the relation of the two words is most clearly shown, and I 
need but to present a few instances where 7dénya and vérenya 
occur to put, it seems to me, the question, as a whole, upon a 
firm basis. 

In the ApC. 4, 5, 5 we have: idenyakratur aham apo devir 
upa bruve with which we may compare Av. 6, 23, 1: varenya- 
kratur ahiém apé devir ipa ἄναγε", here the two words idenya- 
kratur and vérenyakratur are synonymous. 

In the Rig-Veda idénya is without exception used of Agni, 
the case in RV. IX. 5, 3 being, as above stated, but an apparent 
exception as the qualities belonging to Agni are transferred to 
Soma. Indeed, as Bergaigne has observed, zdénya is as regu- 
larly used of Agni as favamana is of Soma; likewise vdérenya is 
generally used of Agni. Cf. Grassmann, Worterbuch, s. v. 

On the writing de, ilénya cf. von Bradke ZDMG. XL. 668 n. 
1; Whitney, §54. 

I have been purposely rather sparing with examples, as this is 
not a question of interpretation, and to adduce a large number of 
instances of the use of vdévenya I consider unnecessary as the 
meaning is quite clear. From 7d, idya is also employed with 
Agni, the exceptions out of thirty passages numbering but four 
or five. 

A noticeable fact in connection with vérenya is that instrumen- 
tals such as gira, suvrktibhir, etc., are used with it, precisely as is 
the case with zdénya (idya). 

To sum up our remarks: Vid < Viz + d < Wig + d, this 
determinative d effecting a connection between 7d and γι zs and 
differentiating 2d from the simple zs; id and W7s are 
frequently correlated with zr; idénya is always, and Ζάγα 
and vdérenya are, with but few exceptions, used in invocations 
addressed to Agni; the 7d is Vedic. I would, therefore, trans- 
late RV. I. 1-2 as follows: “Agni I choose as the purohita, the 
divine ministrant of the sacrifice, the hotar, the greatest giver 
of riches. 


1 For these two passages I am indebted to Dr. Bloomfield. 


ETYMOLOGY OF SANSKRIT ROOT ID. 361 


“ Agni, fit to be chosen by the rshis of old and by those of the 
present time, will bring the gods hither.” 

If this account of id holds good, the meaning of the word 
will be slightly modified in a few Vedic passages, but the interpre- 
tation of these passages will not be essentially changed, since 
the matter involved is not so much the sense of the word as its 
derivation and relation to γ zr. 


Jens A. NEss. 


ΠΝ a 
7 eae 


Wi ἵ 
\ ntCy Mi τι 





THE TECHNIC OF SHAKSPERE’S SONNETS. 


φῶς ἴδιον rod νοῦ τὰ καλὰ ὀνόματα. 
—LONGINUS. 

It may be reckoned as the progress of the 20th century beyond 
the roth, that it begins with a general confession of the futility of 
that criticism which has too long been exercised upon the sonnets 
of Shakspere. The biographical theory may frankly be said to 
have failed. The ‘dark lady’ whitens into a ghost. Students of 
the poet’s life and achievement are not, it may be hoped, to be 
worried any longer by those fantastical legends of his personal 
weaknesses and abasements, which bad critical method so long 
sought to draw from his poems. 

The gain is likely to be great. For, so soon as the world 
ceases to seek in the sonnets for morbid details of the poet’s 
biography, and for the revelation of his adventures and intrigues, 
those poems assume their true value as works of art. And, if the 
stages of a poet’s artistic development be in truth the vital facts 
of a poet’s life, then the sonnets become of monumental worth, 
stages in the attainment of his perfect art, the training-school of 
his transcendent genius for poetic form. They are the abiding 
record of his studies in poetry. In them the young dramatist, 
with his mind set upon all that was best in the sonnet-literature 
of his time, trained himself by strenuous practice and through 
the most ingenious and varied experiments in style and poetic 
diction, to his final purpose, the dramatic rendering of human 
character. 

In essence, therefore, the sonnets, as a long series of elaborate 
studies in the lyrical expression of thought and emotion, are as 
purely and intensely dramatic as the dramas themselves. There 
is, under the lyrical form, the same movement and process of the 
imagination. For, in each drama, each dramatic speech that the 
poet creates is the utterance, as conceived by the poet, of some 
imagined person as evoked by some imagined situation. If the 
speech fit the character and spring by force of nature from the 
situation, there is the true μίμησις, the full attainment of dramatic 


364 THOS. R. PRICE. 


life. And, in the sonnets, in like manner, for the creation of each 
sonnet, there is the situation that the poet imagines and the 
personality that he poses in the situation. Thus, in fitting dra- 
matically the style, in all its details of language and versification, to 
the character and to the situation as he imagined them, he struck 
the deepest fountain of lyrical inspiration. Hence the infinite 
variety and impersonality of the sonnets themselves. Shakspere 
made of them, in the mighty studies of his youth, no trivial rev- 
elation of women that had kissed him nor of friends that had 
betrayed him, but the generalized utterance of human passion. 
The characters that he imagined were so placed in a series of 
imaginary situations, as to exhibit, in the widest possible range 
of emotion, the full play of the human soul. 

And again, in thus combining character and situation, the poet, 
whose whole nature was dramatic, followed the same bent as in 
the dramas. The situations, instead of being drawn from his own 
life and personal experience, were, as it has been proved, almost 
without exception, taken from that sonnet-literature with which 
his youthful reading had made him so familiar. Thus, as in his 
plays, with his mind under the obsession of the assumed char- 
acter, he sought in each poem to attain the final harmony of 
dramatic utterance. The thought, the sentiment, and the style 
were, as his final aim, in their emotional tone, to be fitted as closely 
as possible to the assumed situation. It is the full achievement 
of this purpose in the best of the sonnets that gives them, for 
students of poetry, such peerless charm. And if, as will be seen, 
in many of the sonnets this harmony is not fully attained, the 
striving and experimentation, even the failures, of so great a poet, 
have always a profound interest. 

The steps by which Shakspere approached and attained his 
perfection of lyrical utterance are to be seen in the sonnets 
themselves. The study of them in their details is the study of 
Shakspere’s technic in the management of words and sentences 
and versification. It involves all the means and processes of his 
poetical art, and the creation of his style. And, as the composi- 
tion of the sonnets was the special work of his youthful years, it 
is plain that the labor spent upon the sonnets, in making each 
one in its concentrated brevity the dramatic expression of some 
phase of human passion, was his intellectual training for the 
dramas that were to come. 


THE TECHNIC OF SHAKSPERE'S SONNETS. 305 


For Shakspere himself, as for all the great writers of his time, 
the chief problem of style, in the poetic handling of their English 
language, was the dainty choice of words. Each man’s habit of 
mind and intellectual range of expression showed themselves in 
the preference that he gave either to the native words or to the 
borrowed words of contemporary speech. In the absence of 
dictionaries and elaborate works of reference, this choice, far 
more than in later ages, was the work of individual bent and 
personal taste. On the one hand, there was the charm of racy 
popular usage, in words so rich in natural poetry, inherited from 
the earlier time. On the other hand, there was the charm of 
literary usage and association, in words derived either from the 
Latin, through which men’s education had been conducted, or 
from the French or the Italian or the Spanish, in which their read- 
ing chiefly lay. There was, as was natural, excess on both sides, 
much ugliness and endless affectation. In Shakspere, within the 
compass of the sonnets, the chief character to be noted is the wide 
range of his choice, the flexibility of his style. In all the sonnets 
taken together, there is the average of 16% per cent of foreign 
words to 83% per cent of native words. But in separate sonnets, 
and in groups of sonnets, there is large divergence from this 
normal average. The percentage of foreign words, at its lowest, 
falls to 74 per cent, and at its highest rises to 26% per cent. The 
sonnets that stand at each extreme show a special character that 
makes them noteworthy. Sonnet 73, for example, 


That time of year thou may’st in me behold, 


with its low percentage of foreign words, represents the class in 
which the gem-like radiance of Shakspere’s poetical diction is 
most keenly felt. On the other hand, sonnet 125, 


Were it aught to me, I bore the canopy, 


with its high percentage of foreign words represents the class in 
which the movement of imagination is most impeded, the charm 
of poetry least felt. Such extremes mark the range of the young 
poet’s experiment in poetic diction, and the movement of his 
mind toward purity and daintiness. The sonnets that show the 
largest excess of foreign diction are 


107, 125, 15, 66, 85, 
E29, D271 Ay os 


366 THOS. R. PRICE. 


The sonnets in which the diction is purest are 
43, 73, 22, 24, 42, 
ΟῚ, Ὅν 72, 92, £40. 

Several in each class are supremely beautiful. They show with 
what skill the poet knew how to secure the tone of his emotion.’ 
The charm of the Shaksperian word-choice is chiefly to be seen 
in those elaborate passages in which, for special emotional effect, 
he confines himself to one class of words. Thus, although in 
general, he blends native words with foreign, he gives in many of 
the greatest sonnets, series of verses that are composed altogether 
of native words. Such, for example, is the superb opening of 
the 73rd sonnet, made by three pure verses, or that exquisite 
passage, vv. 9-13, by which, in five pure verses, he leads the 
8oth sonnet to its close. These groups of pure verses represent 
the poet’s highest attainment in poetic style; and the few sonnets 
that contain no pure verses, like sonnets 125 and 127, are of 
inferior workmanship. The poet loved, especially in closing the 
sonnet by the rhyming couplet, to reach his final effect by such a 
grouping of pure verses. See, for example of this manner, the 
powerful close of sonnets 136 and 137.” Such sequences of pure 
verses seem to render in Shakspere’s art the highest emotional 
intensity. 

In reckoning the poetical quality of words, next to their his- 
torical sense and emotional power, their length and syllabic 
quantity seem the most important condition of usage. The verse, 
as Shakspere came to conceive it, in its lovely interlacing of 
accents and quantities, is mainly dependent on the interchange 
of monosyllabic with dissyllabic words. A word of excessive 
length is almost fatal, from his point of view, to the poetical 
movement. It marks the lapse into prose. Only three times, 
for example, does he suffer a word of five syllables to intrude 
its unwieldy length into the sonnet-form.* Of words of four 


1TIn his use of foreign words, Shakspere showed a strong preference for 
foreign nouns and an aversion for foreign adjectives. Of his foreign words 
the nouns are 54 per cent, the verbs are 31 per cent, the adjectives are 15 
per cent. Sonnet 121 stands alone in its excess of foreign adjectives. 

2 The average of pure verses is slightly over three to the sonnet. The 
largest number is found in sonnets 43 and 73. There are only five sonnets 
that contain not a single pure verse, viz., I, 4, 35, 125, 127. 

3 Determination, 13. 6, imaginary, 27. 9, insufficiency, 150. 2; of these only 
imaginary seems to have the true poetic quality. 


THE TECHNIC OF SHAKSPERE’S SONNETS. 367 


‘syllables, there are in the sonnets only 80, and of words of 
three syllables only 517. Thus in the poetic diction of Shakspere 
as elaborated for the sonnet, over 97 per cent of his words are 
either monosyllabic or dissyllabic. But here, once more, as in the 
case of native and foreign words, a special character is given to 
separate sonnets by their wide divergence from his normal usage. 
Many of the most exquisite sonnets are formed altogether of short 
words. So, for example, sonnets 104 and 137. See also sonnets 
17, 47, 69, 83, 130, 145. Onthe other hand, a few sonnets, like 
the beautiful 66th, owe their special charm to the skilful manage- 
ment of the many polysyllabic words. It is a marvellous triumph 
of technical skill, a startling experiment in poetic diction. But, 
in general, the excess of polysyllabic words, as in sonnets 125, 
105, 124 and 135, gives a prosaic movement. Among the sonnets 
there are only 16 that show such faulty use of polysyllables—and 
there are 41 from which they are almost or altogether absent. 

Shakspere’s love for the short word, as leading to terseness of 
expression and concentrated energy of emotion, culminated in 
that superb use of the monosyllabic line which was a special mark 
of his poetic style. Such verses form in truth the special glory 
of English poetry ; for, as they form themselves by the grouping 
of separate syllables, according to their vowel-quantity, under 
accentual law, they cannot arise save in our English language. 
Thus, by their condensation of meaning, they give to the poet 
that can use them such an overwhelming rapidity and fulness of 
imaginative force as no other poetry can parallel. In the son- 
nets it is remarkable that the distribution of the monosyllabic 
verses is strangely irregular. There are 36 sonnets that contain 
no such verses; and they are fewest in the early sonnets (1-31) 
and most numerous in the latest sonnets (128-154). It seems to 
indicate a chronological order as basis of the sonnet-groups. It 
is, as if the poet, pleased by the movement of such verses, came 
as the result of his experiment to use them more and more freely. 
It is, however, in sonnets 42, 43 and 44 that the use of the mono- 
syllabic verse is carried to its highest point. They occur in 
unbroken sequence of three verses in sonnet 44, and they are 
used with splendid skill to make the closing couplet of 43. 


1Compare also the final couplet of sonnets 127, 134, 147, 149, 103, II5, 
~18, 26. It is chiefly condensation of thought that the poet here seeks and 
. attains. 


368 THOS. R. PRICE. 


There was, however, in Shakspere’s choice of words, still 
another, a third principle of selection. The leading words of each 
verse were chosen habitually for their delicate alliterative harmony 
with one another. In composing the sonnets, he became, as we 
shall see, almost infallible in the proper placing of the caesural 
pause. Thus, as the result of the caesura was to cut the verse 
into two halves, he felt, like the older poets, the need of linking 
the two parts by most ingenious harmonies of sound. In many 
cases, this could be done without formal alliteration, by the cor- 
respondence of his accented vowels. Apart from this means, and 
apart from those innumerable cases in which alliteration is used 
only to decorate a single half-verse, there is in the sonnets 
careful alliteration of verse-structure in 38 per cent of his 
verses. In general, Shakspere confines the process to the single 
verse; but in some sonnets he binds together by alliteration 
groups of verses, δ. g. 82, vv. IO-II; γι, VV. 2-3; 135, VV- I-2; 
127, Vv. 2-3-4; 109, vv. 6-7. Within the compass of the single 
verse, so used in each case, as to bind the two halves together, 
alliteration is either double, triple or four-fold, e. g.— 


From fairest creatures, we desire increase, 1. 1. 
Lean penury within that 267: doth dwell, 84. 5. 
Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, 146. 1. 
Like a lamb, he doth his /Jooks trans/ate, 96. το. 


The poet’s preference for the various sounds of our language 
as bearers of alliteration is visible, according to scale, in the 
table: 

S alliteration used 134 times. 


Vowel “ ΒΗ 
L “ ( 61 ce 
B {{ (( 52 “ 
F ἱ ΕΥ̓ “cc 48 “ce 
H ἐς ({ 46 ia 
W i793 ({ 44 “ 
P ce ({ 43 {{ 
τὰ igs ce 41 (a9 
M { AE oy Seale na) SS iret aire 


It is to be noted that, in general, alliteration is more frequent 
in the later sonnets. It rises to its highest use in sonnets 141-50 


eS a see ee πος ὕ.Ψ.ὕ 


THE TECHNIC OF SHAKSPERE'S SONNETS. 369 


and sinks to its lowest in sonnets 41-50. There are ten sonnets 
altogether free from alliteration, and there are seven that rise 
above the rest in what may almost seem excess of alliterative art, 
viz.: 30, 85, 116, 129, 135, 146, 148. 

In the sonnet, as the name denotes, the chief condition 
of excellence is the beauty of the words taken singly, each 
in its place, and the beauty of the verse-cadence by which 
they are united. Thus it has showed itself, in the develop- 
ment of the sonnet-form, that almost all poets have, in fix- 
ing their attention upon the sensuous element of poetry, been 
prone to neglect its intellectual side. In almost all sonnets there 
is lack of lucidity in syntax, lack of logical precision in the 
arrangement of sentences, either a too violent compression of the 
thought to be expressed or an excessive looseness and prolixity. 
It is here that the young Shakspere shows the supreme mastery of 
his art. For him, the perfect pose of his thought upon the 
‘sonnet’s Procrustean bed’ reveals neither cramping nor stretch- 
ing. Except in two or three passages, where the text is doubtful, 
the syntax of the sonnets is faultless and even luminous. He has 
solved in his sonnet-composition not only the problem of choos- 
ing and grouping his words according to their sensuous rhythm, 
but also the problem of constructing and grouping his sentences 
according to their intellectual relations. Thus, in the best of the son- 
nets, above all in those in which he has revealed the fulness of his 
imaginative power, there is the attainment of the highest poetic 
harmony, the harmony of cadence with emotion and truth of 
thought. 

If all the sonnets be taken together, the average length of Shaks- 
pere’s sentences is twenty-five words. It is asentence so moder- 
ate in length as to allow at once perfect freedom and perfect 
accuracy of formation. But here again, around this normal pat- 
tern, there is in the different sonnets an ample range of 
variation. In sonnet 15, for example, he arranges 112 words 
in one single sentence, and so lucid and easy is the arrange- 
ment as to make us unconscious of its unusual length. But in 
sonnet 40, he breaks his thought into τὸ sentences with an 
average length of only 12 words. In these two extremes, 
he illustrates the two theories of perfect sentence-construction; 
and between these two extremes, there is each step of 
variation. The average length of his sentences is highest in 

24 


370 THOS. R. PRICE. 


the early sonnets, especially in sonnets 12 to 31; and it is lowest 
in the later sonnets, lowest of all in sonnets 132-154." 

In the form of the sentence, there is visible the same freedom of 
variation. Among all forms, the complex sentence, in which the 
main statement is modified by one or by two subordinate clauses, 
is the form that Shakspere best loved. In all the sonnets 
taken together, such complex sentences make 45 per cent of all. 
The simple sentences make only 18 per cent, and the compound 
sentences only 13. The rest, 24 per cent of all, are the special 
glory of the poet’s constructive skill. They are sentences that are 
at the same time both complex and compound. Notice, for 
example, how sonnet 15, composed on this pattern, develops the 
thought, through a long succession of graceful members, to the 
lovely epigram with which it closes. Such work as this shows 
the highest technical skill that was ever seen in our English 
poetical literature. 

With exception of 99 and 126, poems that are not sonnets at 
all, the sonnets of Shakspere were planned upon the familiar 
sequence of seven rhymes. 


ABABS-CDCD—EFEF-—GG. 


He conceived the sonnet, not in the Italian fashion, as octave 
and sestet, but, in English fashion, as three quatrains and a 
couplet. It was, as many have felt, a false conception. By the 
prominence that this plan gives to the closing couplet, in which 
there is too often an epigrammatic flash of thought or sentiment 
out of harmony with the first quatrain, he has changed the 
natural movement of the sonnet, and lost its natural grace of 
easy subsidence. But, although the rhyming plan calls for seven 
rhymes, the full number is, in Shakspere’s practice, often reduced. 
Thus, in sonnet 135 and in sonnet 3, the poet, by repeating one 
of his rhymes, reduces the number from seven to four. In both 
sonnets this novel arrangement is plainly calculated for a special 
purpose. And in 11 other sonnets, by the like repetition, the 
number of rhymes is reduced from 7 to 6. From this point of 
view, the group of sonnets, 133, 134, 135 and 136, is specially to 
be noted. 


1The sonnets that have the highest average of length are 12, 15, 64, 75 
and 29; those that have the lowest are 101, 100, 130, 40, 19, 87 and 96. 


THE TECHNIC OF SHAKSPERE S SONNETS. 371 


Much the same result as by reducing the number of rhymes is 
secured by the lavish use of assonance. It serves to bind together 
parts of the sonnet that would otherwise be disconnected. Notice, 
for example, in sonnet 96, the two sets of assonance: 

queen—esteemed, seen—deemed vv. 5-8, 

betray—translate, away—state yv. 9-13. 
Shakspere loves the rich assonance in i,aand é. It produces 
in his art almost the effect of rhyme, and, of the 154 sonnets, 63 
are constructed on this plan of interlacing assonance with rhyme. 
In sonnet 64, not less than 10 of the 14 verses are those linked 
by assonance on ἃ; and, in sonnets 27 and 55, eight verses in each 
are linked by assonance oni. In all these poems, the loveliness 
of verse-movement and the unity of the sonnet-form are by this 
expedient much enhanced. 

The perfect rhyme, so much used by poets of the time, is but 
seldom used by Shakspere—e. g. offence and defence, 89. vv. 
2-4. It occurs only six times in the sonnets. Cf. sonnets 10, 
26, 69, 74 and 114. 

As against this dislike of the perfect rhyme, there were two 
kinds of imperfect rhyme that Shakspere tolerated and even 
loved. His fondness for vowel-assonance has already been dis- 
cussed. He lets it even take the place of the true rhyme and 
serve in its stead, e. g.— 


open—broken, 61. 1-3, 
remembered—tendered, 120. 9-11. 


Here the charm of the unexpected combination is delicious. Less 
pleasing to modern ears is the other habit of Shakspere’s rhyming 
to which we may give the name of consonantal assonance, e. g.— 
field—held, 2. 2-41, 
son—noon, 7. 13-14. 
Rhymes founded upon the consonantal assonance, false rhymes to 
modern ears, are largely used in the sonnets, over 90 times 
in all, and many of them are so often repeated as to show that the 
poet loved them. It is, however, to be borne in mind, that in the 
shifting and breaking of vowel-sounds that have gone on since the 
16th century, many rhymes that were good in Shakspere’s time 
are now false.’ Each case of apparent consonantal assonance would 


1So, for example, the frequent rhyme of parts and deserts and of one and 
alone. 


372 THOS. R. PRICE. 


need a special discussion. The majority of cases involves the 
sound of 6 and 6. 

In the study of Shakspere’s rhymes, it is the question of his 
feminine rhymes that has the highest technical interest. It is in 
using them largely and in refusing to use them at all, that he 
shows the most deliberate intention to experiment with their 
poetic value. If all the sonnets be taken together, the feminine 
rhymes make only eight’ per cent and the masculine rhymes 
make 92 per cent. But the distribution of the feminine rhymes 
is plainly not accidental nor according to any law of general 
average. From great masses of the sonnets, taken in large 
groups, the feminine rhyme is altogether absent... On the other 
hand, sonnet 20, whose exquisite movement is a marvel of litera- 
ture, is composed altogether on feminine rhymes; and sonnet 87, 
not so well done, shows the feminine rhyme in 12 out of 14 
places. See also the large use in sonnets 26, 42, 119, 121 and 152. 
There is here always deliberate calculation, the purpose of secur- 
ing a definite emotional effect. The use of feminine rhymes is 
at its lowest in the sonnet-groups 71-80 and Io1-110, and at its 
highest in sonnet-groups 11-20, 81-90 and 111- 120. There are 
few examples of a sonnet in which masculine and feminine rhyme 
are used in fairly equal proportion. The poet saw that, for his 
effect, there must be in each sonnet, the strong predominance of 
the one or of the other, or the total exclusion of the one by the 
other. 

Even more important, in Shakspere’s eyes, than the manage- 
ment of the final rhyme, was the management of the caesural pause. 
In this respect, also, the sonnets reveal the wonderful progress 
of his verse-construction. Some verses are, indeed, to be found 
in which there is no recognition of any natural caesura, e. g.— 


Until Death’s composition be secured, 45. 9. 
Against confounding Age’s cruel knife, 63. 10. 


Such inarticulate verses, of which there are 71 in all, occur 
most frequently in the sonnet-group 34-66, and most rarely 
in the sonnet-groups 23-33, and 100-111. They form less than 
three per cent of all the verses. In all the other verses, more 
than 97 per cent, the poet makes the caesural pause so coincide 


1 See, for example, the group of sonnets 95 to 110, with exception of one 
pair in sonnet 102. 


THE TECHNIC OF SHAKSPERE’'S SONNETS. 373 


with the structure and meaning of the verse itself as to be always 
clear and always beautiful. In this point, also, the sonnets mark 
the advance in his verse-construction from the verses of his 
youthful period to those of his mature manner. 

If all the sonnets be taken together, there is a steady predom- 
inance of the masculine over the feminine caesura, 68 per cent 
against 32. But here again the actual distribution defies the 
general average. In many groups of sonnets, the one form or the 
other is almost exclusively employed. In a few sonnets, eight 
in all, there is an exact balance between the masculine and the 
feminine form, each occurring seven times—e. g. sonnets 97 
and 98. In each the reader is conscious of the exquisite har- 
mony that results. Among the other sonnets there are 58 
marked by large predominance of masculine caesuras. It 
produces an effect that can best be felt in sonnets 28 and 42. And 
there are seven sonnets that are rendered remarkable by the 
predominance of feminine caesuras. Read, for example, sonnet 
48. The proportion of feminine caesuras is largest in the group 
of sonnets 89-133. It is lowest in the groups 23-33 and 145-154. 

In the construction of the separate sonnets, there is in general 
a free shifting of the caesural pause from verse to verse. The 
poet’s purpose is, in the great majority of sonnets, to give 
variety. In 72 sonnets, one-half of all, each poem is arranged 
on the shifting movement of four different forms. Many have 
only three forms. But there are 41 sonnets that show five different 
forms of caesura, 17 that show six, and three that show seven 
varieties. The marvellous charm of such ample caesural varia- 
tion is best seen in sonnet 116. 

On the other hand, in order to attain some special emotional 
tone, the poet loves to construct a sequence of verses on the same 
caesural arrangement. Thus in the splendid 14th sonnet, there 
is a grandeur of movement in the monotony of the masculine 
caesura, opening with vv. 1, 2, 3 and 4, repeated in 8, 9 and 10, 
and closing with 13, 14 and 15. Contrasted with this in emo- 
tional tone, is the lovely monotony of the opening in sonnet 95, 
formed by a sequence of feminine caesuras. Of all unbroken 
sequences, the most remarkable is to be found in sonnet 30, vv. 
6-14, all in one and the same masculine form. 

The last and the highest point of view from which the poetical 
style of Shakspere is to be studied, so far as displayed in the 


374 THOS. R. PRICE. 


sonnets, is the extent to which his vocabulary is penetrated and 
colored by his imagination. For, according to the purpose to be 
attained, words are to be chosen either because they involve the 
figure and thus transfer the movement of the imagination, or 
because, being so far as possible freed of figure, they make 
their appeal only to the pure reason. It is, in making this choice 
of words between the limits thus given, that the style of Shaks- 
pere shows the infinite range of its emotional variation. There 
are in fact, within the group of sonnets, intermingled with each 
other, two sets of poems formed on principles of art that are fun- 
damentally diverse. On the one hand, composed with the highest 
attainable splendor of imaginative diction, there are poems formed 
of verses that are made each to sparkle and corruscate with bril- 
liant touches of natural poetry. On the other hand, composed 
in words from which all touch of figure is carefully withheld, there 
are poems in which the subtle play of pure thought, rising some- 
times into ingenious conceit, is made to take the place of imagi- 
native fervor. Whether a poem belongs to the one or to the other 
class, may be roughly tested by the presence or the absence of 
consciously suggested figure. Thus among the sonnets there are 
45 that may be fairly described as purposely left bare of figure and 
of imaginative decoration. And there are 44 others in which the 
play of figure is, except upon close analysis, almost invisible. 
In these 89 poems, the poetic quality lies solely or almost 
solely in the melody of verse, in the refined and accurate 
choice of words and in the emotional interest of the psycho- 
logical problem. The 42nd sonnet, for example, without intro- 
ducing a single image of natural beauty, shows the dramatic 
poet dealing, in verses of lovely form and arrangement, with a 
dramatic situation of most curious dramatic interest. Inter- 
mingled with these 89 there are 21 others that are unsurpassed in 
human literature for their concentrated splendor of poetical 
imagery. In them the poet, instead of developing a curious 
thought, embodies an overwhelming emotion, in symbols and 
figures of natural beauty, drawn from all the sources of the 
poetical imagination. Watch, for example, the magical effect 
of sonnet 33, as, full-orbed in radiance, it falls into its place 
after the more subdued harmonies of 30, 31 and g2. And so, 
again, sonnet 73, with its incomparable fulness of sensuous 
charm, is set, like a precious gem, between the almost 


THE TECHNIC OF SHAKSPERE’S SONNETS. 375 


unadorned movements of sonnets 72 and 74. Between the two 
extremes that have been defined and exhibited, there are 
44 sonnets that partake, in ever shifting degrees, of both 
characters. They are poems, in which, while there is more or 
less development of natural figure, there is also the purely psy- 
chological delight in situation and dramatic movement. 

The sources of imaginative figures are, as revealed in the son- 
nets, almost the same, in their nature and relative proportions, as 
revealed inthe dramas. Those figures that involve the beauty 
of animal life are 52 in number. Those that involve the beauty 
of plant life are 70 in number, with rose, lily and violet as the 
most prominent. Figures drawn from the color,’ form and 
movement of landscape are 74 in number. They deal by pref- 
erence with the change of season as seen in English nature, 
with the change from day to night, and with the aspects of the 
seashore and the sea. It is in the vivid and intense beauty of 
these landscape effects, in the fewness of the words employed 
and the infinite variety of their suggestiveness, that the best 
of the sonnets reach their fullest poetical splendor. Such supreme 
sonnets as 33, 73 and 97, may in their power of using the beauty 
of physical nature as the symbol of human emotion, be accepted 
as the highest lyrical expression that English poetry has 
achieved. 

CoLuMBIA UNIVERSITY. TuHos. R. PRICE. 


1Color, as element of physical beauty, is used inthe sonnets 42 times. 
There are 13 colors employed, with great preponderance of gold, red and 
green. 


i} ἡ 
Wy 
ah ἮΝ 


ΤΥ) 


ih 
NW 
ii) 


ΤΙ PRA 
wy! PAN 


RAV it 
a Ks) 


ty 





THE ATTITUDE OF ALCUIN TOWARD VERGIL. 


No attentive reader of Alcuin (Albinus Flaccus) will have 
failed to detect that this avowed enemy of the classics in general 
possesses a Latin style which, setting aside the mere matter of 
literal quotations, betrays an evident fondness for certain classical 
poets in particular. In his life of Alcuin, published at Halle in 
1829, Lorenz was struck by this inconsistency between precept 
and practice and found it difficult to explain.! Nor does any 
adequate discussion of the matter seem to have fallen within the 
purpose or province of those writers’ who, since the book of 
Lorenz was published, have been interested in the career of the 
famous teacher, minister, and friend of Charles the Great. The 
nearest approach to a discovery of the key to the situation is 
suggested by the words of Comparetti (Vergil in the Middle 
Ages, trans. Benecke, 1895, p. 83), who maintains that “if any 
one were to collect from the ecclesiastical writers all the passages 
in which they inveigh against the reading of pagan authors and 
the pursuit of profane studies generally, the collection would be 
a considerable one; but far greater would be a collection of the 
passages which prove that none the less the same writers oc- 
cupied themselves with studies of this very kind.” 

It is proposed here to restate briefly the attitude of representa- 
tive patristic writers prior to Alcuin, and by a collection of 
material from Alcuin, chiefly from his poems, to show that his 
inconsistency is merely a reflex of his age. 


1««Tn a letter to Angilbert (Mon. Alc., Ep. 54, p. 282), who was then re- 
siding in Rome, and whom he requests to bring some relicts from that city, 
Alcuin quotes a verse from Ovid’s Ars Amandi. Strange as it may seem, 
that a man who could quote a frivolous poem when speaking upon a sub- 
ject so serious and sacred as relicts were to him, should prohibit the read- 
ing of the poets, still it was one of the inconsistencies of his character.”’ 
—Slee’s trans. of Lorenz, London, 1837, p. 284. 

?The work of Lorenz has been partially superseded by Monnier, Al- 
cuin et Charlemagne, Paris, 1863; Mullinger, The Schools of Charles the 
Great, London, 1877; Werner, Alcuin und sein Jahrhundert, Wien, 1881; 
West, Alcuin and the Rise of Christian Schools, New York, 1892. 


378 OMERA FLOYD LONG. 


The student of patristic Latin knows that two extremes in the 
attitude of Christian writers toward pagan literature are repre- 
sented in the period which may be roughly fixed between the 
reigns of Constantine the Great and Charles the Great. During 
a large part of this period, as Comparetti in particular has shown 
(p. 96), references to Vergil are so numerous in expressions of 
hatred or love for the ancients that it may be assumed that he 
was to them “the chief representative of the classical tradi- 
tions.”* Their attitude toward Vergil, then, may very well illus- 
trate the two extremes to which reference has been made. In 
the early part of this period, before the open rebellion against 
classical traditions, Vergil as “the poet of the Saints” is already 
a familiar figure. To the Christian feeling, doubtless, mens s7bt 
conscia vectt and auri sacra fames were as good as their own 
equivalents “a conscience void of offense” and ‘“‘the love of 
money,” or even better, because certain of the pagan poets had 
also said them; while such a line as Aen. V, 815 unum pro mul- 
tis dabitur caput, seemed little short of actual inspiration.? Au- 
gustine quotes from the fourth Eclogue as if from sacred proph- 
ecy (e. 5. Ὁ: D. 27; Ep. 127: 12, Migne XXX col sere 
and this was the general interpretation of the early fathers, who 
were glad to welcome any testimony from this source; Jerome 
alone denied, and that, too, in no uncertain terms, that this 
Eclogue referred to the coming of Christ (Ep. LIII, 7, Migne 
XXII, col. 544). In this same passage Jerome also speaks dis- 
paragingly of the ‘‘ Vergiliocentonas,” but Proba’s lengthy mosaic 
was only the first*® of many productions of that sort. The ex- 
tensive use made of Vergilian passages by many, as Cyprian, 
Lactantius, Ambrose, Jerome, Augustine and Minucius Felix, in 
proving Christian principles, was supported by the example of 
Moses, who gained wisdom from the Egyptians ;* but numerous 
reminiscences and quotations in these same authors show pas- 
sages used purely for ornamental effect. Thus Jerome found 
horror ubique animo, simul ipsa silentia terrent (Aen. II, 


1 Compare also Manitius, Gesch. d. christ.-lat. Poesie, Stuttgart, 1891, 
P+ 57. 

3566 Peiper, Virgilius als Theolog ἃ. Prophet d. Heidentums in d. 
Kirche, Evangel. Kalender, Berl. 1862, p. 49. 

3 Isidorus, de Vir. Ill. 22; Orig. I, 38, 25; Manitius, p. 124 f. 

4 Cassiod. Instit. Divin. Lit. ch. 28, Migne LXX, col. 1142. 


THE ATTITUDE OF ALCUIN TOWARD VERGIL. 379 


755) most expressive of his feelings when surrounded by the 
gloom of the catacombs; cf. Comm. in Ezech. ch. 40 (Migne 
XXV, col. 375). 

The frequency of these reminiscences was in a large measure 
due to the training of the schools; compare August., C. D. I, 3 
apud Vergilium quem propterea parvuli legunt,’ ut videlicet 
poeta magnus omniumque praeclarissimus atque optimus teneris 
ebibitus animis non facile oblivione possit aboleri. Augustine 
himself used to read half a book daily. By the sixth century 
the word ‘“Virgilius” was synonymous with grammar,’ and a 
would-be grammarian of the day appropriated the poet’s full 
name. 

Meantime a counter current was running toward the other ex- 
treme. Its beginning may be traced as far back as Tertullian; 
e.g. de Idololat., ch. 10 quaerendum autem est etiam de ludi- 
magistris sed et de ceteris professoribus litterarum. Immo non 
dubitandum affines illos esse multimodae idololatriae. Arnobius 
adv, Nationes III, 7 is glad to record that the pagans themselves 
desired the destruction of Cicero’s de Natura Deorum, as a case 
of saving themselves from their friends. The two extremes re- 
ferred to often met in the same writer. Augustine in middle life 
regrets the time wasted on Vergil (Conf. I, op. 153), yet shows 
abundant traces of such wasted time in the work of his old age. 
Jerome censures priests ‘‘ who have Vergil always in their hands 
and make a sensual sin of that study which for children is a 
necessity,”*® and asks with feeling, ‘‘ What has Horace to do with 
the Psalter, or Vergil with the Gospels, or Cicero with the Apos- 
tles?”* Yet Vergil was still used in the school at Bethlehem and 
Jerome’s inconsistency is criticised by Rufinus.* Julian with 
more consistency, even in his apostasy, ordered that grammar 
and rhetoric, i. e., pagan literature, should not be taught in the 


schools: τῶν ἐθνικῶν βιβλίων πάντων ἀπέχου. . . - εἴτε yap ἱστορικὰ θέλεις 


1See the statement of Paulin. of Pella, Corp. Eccl. XVI, p. 263 f. 

2 Compare e. g. Greg. Turon. IV, 47. 

3Ep. XXI, 13 (Migne XXII, col. 386). 

4Ep. XXII, 29 (Migne XXII, col. 416); cf, Praef. ad Comm, in Epist, 
ad Galat. III, 5 (Migne XX VI, col. 399). 

5 Apol. in S. Hieron. II, 8 (Migne XXI, col. 592) ; cf. also ibid. 7 si una 
eius operis pagina est, quae non eum iterum Ciceronianum pronuntiet, ubi 
non dicat: sed Tullius noster, sed Flaccus noster, sed Maro. 


380 OMERA FLOYD LONG. 


διέρχεσθαι, ἔχεις τὰς Baowdelous’ ... εἴτε ἀσματικῶν dpéyn, ἔχεις τοὺς 
Ψψαλμούς ". . . πάντων οὖν τῶν ἀλλοτρίων καὶ διαβολικῶν ἰσχυρῶς ἀπόσχου, 
Apost. Const. I, 6. This work may not be canonical’, but that 
some action was taken is evident from Amm. Marc. XXII, 10, 7 
illud autem erat inclemens, obruendum perenni silentio, quod 
arcebat docere magistros rhetoricos et grammaticos ritus christiani 
cultores. 

The matter, however, was not easily controlled, and later at- 
tempts at consistency, as in the case of Gregory of Tours, Isi- 
dorus and Beda, only made the inconsistency more conspicuous. 
Among the earlier Christians all had read Vergil, a few had re- 
viled him; among the later Christians all read him, and but few 
did not revile him.” And yet, whatever the outward pose, those 
who attempted epics, without exception, imitated Vergil.’ 

Alcuin’s inconsistencies merely reflect the inconsistencies of his 
age. According to the anonymous author of the wa beati 
Alchuini Abbatis, whose source was Sigulfus* (Vetulus), one of 
Alcuin’s followers from England, Alcuin in his earlier years was 
Virgilit amplius quam psalmorum amator (ch. 1, Mon. Alc., p. 
6). A characteristic story follows, according to which Alcuin, 
when 11 years old, was allowed to stay all night with a rustic for 
the sake of company; the latter by loud snoring next morning 
disturbed the service of worshipers near by, and, while he was 
being flogged by the brethren as a wholesome example, Alcuin, 
puer nobilis tremiscens, ne sibi eadem fierent, haec, ut ipse post 
testatus est, corde dicebat imo: O domine Jesu, st me nunc tsto- 
rum eruis manibus cruentis, et post hoc sollicitus erga ecclesiae 
tuae vigilias ministeriaque laudum non fuero, plusque ultra Vir- 
gilium quam psalmorum modulationem amavero, tunc tale sortiar 
castigationis flagellum. Tantum, obnixe precor, nunc Domine 
libera me. 


1Cf. Comparetti, p. 81, ἢ. 12. 

?John of Fulda has a poem on the respective merits of Vergil and Ara- 
tor, to the great disparagement of the former: 

vs. 13 Virgilius paleas, frumentum prebet Arator; 
Hic mansura docet, ille caduca refert. 
Poet. Lat. Aev. Carol. I, p. 392. 

3 Manit. p. 57 und zwar nicht nur in dieser friihen Zeit, sondern auch 
fast wahrend des ganzen Mittelalters. 

4 Cf. Lorenz (Slee), p. 284. 


THE ATTITUDE OF ALCUIN TOWARD ΥΈΚΟΙΣ. 381 


Some consistency, therefore, as well as acerbity, he does: show 
later in trying to prevent the young monks from reading the 
“lies of Vergil” (vita, ch. 10, Mon. Alc., p. 24): legerat isdem 
vir Domini libros iuvenis antiquorum philosophorum, Virgiliique 
mendacia, quae nolebat iam ipse nec audire, neque discipulos 
suos legere, suffictunt, inquiens, divint poetae vobis, nec egetis 
luxurtosa sermonis Virgilit vos pollui facundia. Sigulfus at- 
tempted deception, but was detected and severely reprimanded.’ 
Various expressions in the letters support the biographer’s rep- 
resentation. A conspicuous case is the reproof of Richbodus, 
Archbishop of Tréves (Ep. 216, Mon. Alc. p. 713 f.): Flaccus 
(i. e. Alcuin) recessit, Virgilius accessit, et in loco magistri nidi- 
ficat Maro?... Utinam euangelia quattuor, non Aeneades duo- 
decim, pectus compleant tuum. Compare also Ep. 243, p. 783 
haec (sc. sapientia) in Virgiliacis? non invenietur mendaciis, sed 
in euangelica affluenter reperietur veritate; Ep. 119, p. 485 
quamvis magis nobis adtendendum sit euangelicis praceptis quam 
Virgiliacis” versibus; Ep. 239, p. 764 et (sc. ut) impleatur Vir- 
giliacum ἢ illud 

Dat sine mente sonum 
et non euangelicum. To Angilbertus (Ep. 252, p. 803), who has 
asked for the gender of vadus, Alcuin cites a line (Ecl. III, 89) 
from Vergilius, haud comtempnendae auctoritatis falsator. Sim- 
ilarly he speaks again of fa/sz Maronis, cf. the verses prefixed 
to his commentary on the Song of Solomon (Carm. LX XVIII, 5 
ff., Mon. Germ. Hist. I, p. 299 


Has, rogo, menti tuae, iuvenis, mandare memento : 
Cantica sunt nimium falsi haec meliora Maronis. 
Haec tibi vera canunt vitae praecepta perennis, 
Auribus ille tuis male frivola falsa sonabit. 


The expression zaxta Virgilit vestrt prophetiam, Ep. 98, p. 
410, in quoting Ecl. IX, 51 ff., is doubtless a playful allusion to 
Vergil’s fame from the fourth Eclogue, since in Ep. 54, p. 282, a 
line from Ovid* is humorously applied as a prophecy to Angil- 


1Cuius satisfactionem benigne pius pater post increpationem accepit, 
monens eum ne ultra tale aliquid ageret. 

2No further occurrence of this formation has been noted. In Ep. 119 
it follows ewangelicus and may be due to the suggestion from that word, 
which, it will be noted, is in the context of the other two examples, Virgiliz 
mendacia is the phrase of the vita, ch. 10. 

3A, A. II, 280 si nihil attuleris, ibis, Homere, foras. 


382 OMERA FLOYD LONG. 


bertus, and Alcuin adds: hoc de te tuoque itinere prophetatum 
esse, quis dubitat? Si Christum Sibilla eiusque labores praedixit 
venturum, cur non Naso Homerum eiusque itinera praececinit ? 
Further references and quotations in the letters have been cur- 
sorily noted: Ep. 70, p. 324 quid enim auri insana cupido non 
subvertit boni? Aen. ITI, 57; cf. also Ep. 160, p. 597 sed quid 
non efficit auri sacra fames; Ep. 98, p. 408 tarditas aselli, Ge. 
I, 273; ibid. Entellus senior, Aen. V, 437 ff. ; ibid. frigidus circa prae- 
cordia recaluit sanguis, Ge. II, 484; ibid. p. 410 iuxta Virgilii 
vestri prophetiam. Nam 
saepe ego longos 
Cantando puerum memini me condere soles. 
Nunc oblita mihi tot carmina; vox quoque Flaccum! 
Ipsa fugit, 
Ecl. IX, 51-54; ibid. p. 413 et Virgilius Augusto scribens: 


tu sectaris apros, ego retia servo, 


Ecl. III, 75; Ep. 116, p. 478 quid ad haec? 
sit Tityrus Orpheus, 
Orpheus (in silvis) inter delphinas Arion, 
Bek’ ἘΠῚ ἘΞ ἀπε ibid. 


Omnia vel medium fiant mare. Vivite, silvae, 


dixit amans spernenti se. Idem in eodem poeta: 


Invenies alium, si te hic fastidit Alexis, 


Ecl. II, 73; Ep. 119, p. 485 legitur quendam veterum dixisse poe- 
tarum, cum de laude imperatorum Romani regni, si rite recordor, 
cecinisset, quales esse debuissent, dicens: 


Parcere subiectis et debellare superbos, 


Aen. VI, 854; Ep. 121, p. 491 lupus gallo? tulit vocem, Ecl. IX, 
53 f.; Ep. 132, p. 520 fama per multorum ora volitans resonat, 
Ge. III, 9, Aen. XII, 235; ibid. p. 521 et more senis Entelli sal- 
tare. ...et Daretem Hispanicum vincere, qui gloriatur in 
fortitudine iuvenilis aetatis, Aen. V, 369 ff.; Ep. 147, p. 559 en erit 
illa dies, ut liceat mihi etc., Ecl. VIII, 7 ff; Ep. 194, p. 679 lacri- 
mis dictavi obortis, Aen. III, 492, IV, 30, etc.; Ep. 216, p. 713 
amor Maronis tulit memoriam mei? O si mihi nomen esset Virgi- 
lius, tunc semper ante oculos luderem tuos, et mea dicta tota 


1 With substitution of Alcuin’s scholastic name, cf. e. g. Ep. 78; 216. 
* Referring to Adalhardus to whom the letter is written. 


THE ATTITUDE OF ALCUIN TOWARD VERGIL, 383 


pertractares intentione, et iuxta proverbium illius essem apud te 
Tunc felix nimium, quo non felicior ullus, ! 
Aen. VV, 657, LX, 7725 Eps 252) p. 803 
Mella fluant illi, ferat et rubus asper, 
Ecl. III, 89; Ep. 293, p. 881 o si mihi vox ferrea esset et omnes 
pili verterentur in linguas, Ge. II, 43 f. 

In his poems Alcuin does not try so often to point a moral with 
his Vergilian reminiscences; these are, therefore, more genuinely 
imitations for the sake of embellishment, due to study of Vergil as 
a model.’ Ovid,* Horace, Propertius, Lucan, Persius and Calpurnius 
Siculus are also represented, but the Vergilian reminiscences num- 
ber more than twice as many as all the rest combined. Compare 
the following: I,* 11 dona ferentes, Aen. II, 49; 46-49 est antiqua, 
potens bellis et corpore praestans, Germaniae populos gens inter 
et extera regna, Duritiam propter dicti cognomine Saxi. Hance 
placuit ducibus regni conducere donis, Aen. I, 531 ff.; 76 iam 
nova... sceptra, Ecl. IV, 7; 84 peregrini cultor agelli, Mor. 3, 
(cf. Ecl. IX, 3); 98 verbisque adfatur amicis, Aen. II, 372; 99 quae 
te dura coquit, iuvenum fortissime, cura, Aen. VII, 345 (cf. Enn. 
Ann. X, 5, p. 51 Vahl.); 103 imperium latum tibi terminat undis, 
Aen. I, 287; 127 nec rapit arma furor, Aen. I, 150; 140 f. solis 
ceu lucifer ortum Praecurrens tetras tenebrarum discutit umbras, 
Ge. II, 357; 155 namque erit ille mihi solus deus omne per aevum, 
Ecl. I, 7; 243 bellorum vivida virtus, Aen. V, 754; 255 f. ut leo 
cum catulis crudelis ovilia vastat Et pecus omne ferus mactat man- 
ditque, trahitque, Aen. IX, 339 ff.; 258 per tela, per hostes, Aen. 
II, 527; 321 amoena virecta, Aen. VI, 638; 346 f. contigit ut subito 
flammis volitantibus altum Ignis edax culmen raperet, Aen. 11, 
758; 525 imbribus exundans torrens ceu montibus altis Sternit 
agros segetesque rapit silvasque recidit, Aen. II, 304 ff.; 655 dis- 


1 Alter, Vergil. 

2 Cf, Ebert, Allgem.Gesch. d. Lit. 4, Mittelalters, Leipz. 1880, II, pp. 26, 36. 

3 Ovid leads in this list with about a dozen passages ; one of these, A. 
A, III, 62 ff. 

Eunt anni more fluentis aquae. 
Nec quae praeteriit, iterum revocabitur unda. 
Nec quae praeteriit, hora redire potest, 

makes a good text some half dozen times: XLVIII, 26; LXII, 146; 
LXXVI, 20, etc. 

4The numbering of Duemmler, Poetae Lat. Aev. Carol., Berl., 1881, is 
followed. 


384 OMERA FLOYD LONG. 


cutiens tenebras, Ge. II, 357; 896 vivo equidem, Aen. III, 315; 
1253 dives opum terrae, Ge. II, 468; 1350 non hodie effugies, 
Ecl. III, 49; 1418 spes tanta parentum, Aen. II, 281; 1440 solis 
lunaeque labores, Ge. II, 478 (cf. Aen. I, 742); 1588 vitae spes 
maxima nostrae, (cf. Aen. XII, 168); 1590 te duce, Ecl. IV, 13; 
1592 dum sol noxque sibi cedunt, dum quatuor annus Dividitur 
vicibus, crescunt dum germina terris; Sidera dum lucent, trudit 
dum nubila ventus, Semper honos nomenque tuum, laudesque 
manebunt, Aen. I, 607 ff., Ecl. V. 76ff.; III, 2, 20, 30 accipiens cali- 
cem pleno se et proluit ore, Aen. I, 739; 21, I est antiqua, potens 
muris et turribus ampla, Urbs Treveris, Aen. I, 531 f.; 30, 7 sperare 
salutem, Aen. II, 354; 31, 2 nervi vix ossibus haerent, Ecl. III, 
102; 12 per membra cucurrit, Aen. XII, 447; IV, 19 tua laus 
mecum semper, dilecte, manebit, Ecl. V, 76; 23 puppis potiatur 
harena, Aen. I, 172; 28 ab orbe Britanno, Ecl. I, 67; 30 data 
copia verbi, Aen. I, 520; 61 f. nunc tamen hanc ederam circum 
sine timpora sacra Serpere, Ecl. VIII, 12 f.; 64 and 70 heia age 
. . . fuge, rumpe moras, Aen. IV, 569; VII, 21 o decus omne tuis, 
Ecl. 'V, 34; VIII, 12 sic male sacra fames, Aen. ΠΠ10 8; τς 
per varios casus, Aen. I, 204; 45 quis teneat lacrimas, Aen. II, 8; 
67 inclita bello, Aen. II, 241; 84 ignis edax rapuit, Aen. II, 758; 
103 strato .. recubabat in ostro, Aen. I, 700; 105 oculos atra 
caligine claudit, Aen. XI, 876; 109 subito vox faucibus haesit, 
Aen. XII, 868; 113 vix ossibus haeret, Ecl. III, 102; 155 sic tan- 
dem vobis clipeus descendit ab alto (cf. Aen. VIII, 664); XIV, 1 
pergite, Pierides, Ecl. VI, 13; XVIII, 19 Orpheus aut Linus, 
nec me Maro vincit in odis, Ecl. 1V, 55; XXVI, 23 f. quid faciet 
tardus canuto vertice Drances Consilio validus, gelida est cui dex- 
tera bello, Aen. XI, 336 ff.; XXXII, 1 saevis ereptus ab undis, 
Aen. I, 596; 4 ο Corydon, Corydon, Ecl. II, 69; 31 f. rusticus est 
Corydon, dixit hoc forte propheta’ Virgilius quondam: “ Rus- 
ticus es, Corydon,” Ecl. II, 56; XL, 1 nix ruit e caelo, gelidus 
simul ingruit imber, Aen. XII, 284 (possibly a play on Aen. VIII, 
369); 8 carmina non curat David, nec Delia curat, Ecl. II, 6, 
Ecl. VIII, 103; XLII, 1 roseis Aurora quadrigis, Aen. VI, 535; 
19 sint patris Entelli memores iuvenisque Daretis, Aen. V, 368 ff.; 
XLIV, 45 omnia vincit amor, Ecl. X, 69; XLV, 67 erige sub- 
iectos et iam depone superbos, Aen. VI, 853; L, 33 velivoli pelagi, 
Aen. I, 224; LV, 3, 1 hos ergo versiculos (cf. ‘hos ego versicu- 


1Compare Epp. 54 and 98. 


THE ATTITUDE OF ALCUIN TOWARD VERGIL. 385 


los”); LVII, 1 Dafnin dulcissime, (cf. Ecll. V, VII, VIII); 2 rapuit 
saeva noverca, Ge. II, 128; 4 incipe tu senior, quaeso, Menalca 
prior, Ecl. V, 10; 29 en tondent nostri librorum prata iuvenci, 
Ge. I, 15 and 289, Ecl. VII, 11; 39 si non dura silex genuit te, 
Aen. VI, 471 (cf. IV, 366); LVIII,! 8 his certamen erat cuculi.de 
carmine grande,’ Ecl. VII, 16; 13 tum glacialis hiems, Aen. III, 
285; 45 desine plura, Hiems, Ecl. V, 19 (cf. 66). LIX,* 25 
improbus ille puer, Ecl. VIII, 50; LXI, 21 vino somnoque sepul- 
tos, Aen. II, 265; LXV, 4 a, 13 haec erit, haec requies vestri 
iam certa laboris, Aen. III, 393; LXIX, 11 mens conscia recti, 
Aen. I, 604; LX XIV, 14 omnia vincit amor, nos quoque vincat 
amor, Ecl. X, 69; 19 f. iudice te nullum, si numquam fallit imago, 
Iam metuens fugiam, Ecl. II. 26 f.; LX XVI, 1, 25 accipite haec 
animis, Aen. III, 250; LXXXV, 1, 13 ad sidera tendit, Aen. V, 
256; XCIII, 14 postquam Tondenti in gremium candida barba 
cadit, Ecl. I, 28; C, 3, 1 frigidus hiberno veniens de monte 
viator, Ecl. X, 20; CII, 11 incipit ille prior, Ecl. V, 10; CIV, 
6, τ urbibus egregiis, quarum nova culmina surgunt, Aen. I, 437. 
In minor points of diction, too, Vergil’s influence is seen: cf. 
‘ navita I, 29 (de Orthograph.,‘ G. L. VII, 305, 17; Ge. I, 137; 
372, etc.); velligutas, according to Duemmler’s text, I, 361 ; 366; 
483; 1317, etc. (Orthograph., p. 308, 31 reliquiae per unum ], 
licet Vergilius . . . , “relliquiae Danaum”’) ; ve/=e? I, 1179 and 
frequently, is found in Vergil, though it is common in Ecclesiastical 
writers, cf. Georges 5. v.; alfaria circum IX, 201, cf. Ecl. VIII, 
74 (Orthograph., p. 298, 24 circum in quibusdam post ponitur, ut 
Vergilius ‘maria omnia circum’), certain archaisms, such as ast, 
foret, the infinitive in -zev, Alcuin may have justified by Vergil’s 
usage. 
Alcuin’s use of Vergil, therefore, far exceeds his abuse, precisely 
as in the case of many of his predecessors; and it is not surprising to 
find him making the same defense of his borrowings though his 


1The conception of this really good poem, Conflictus veris et hiemis, is 
in direct imitation of Vergil’s amoebaean Eclogues, even a Palaemon set- 
tles the contest. 

2 Note the use of grande for Vergil’s magnum ; cf. Korting, Latein.-roman, 
Worterb., 5. v. 

3Cf, vs. 11 fas idcirco, reor, comprendere plectra Maronis. 

*Alcuin’s intimate acquaintance with Vergil is an easy inference frem 
his grammatical works alone ; in the brief Orthographia out of 22 references 
to classical and preclassical authors, 17 are from Vergil. 


25 


386 OMERA FLOYD LONG. 


apology does not cover the whole ground; cf. Ep. 147, p. 561 
litterulas aliquas admonitionis vestrae scribere venerandae 
auctoritati temerarium duxi, nisi legerem, beato Hieronymodicente, 
aurum in sterquilinio inventum lavandum esse et thesauro 
dominico inserendum. Nam beatus apostolus Paulus aurum 
sapientiae, in stercore poetarum inventum, in divitias ecclesiasticae 
transtulit prudentiae; sicut omnes sancti doctores, eius exemplo 
eruditi, fecerunt. 


NORTHWESTERN UNIVERSITY, OMERA FLoyp LONG. 


Evanston, IL. 


NOTES ON LUCIAN’S SYRIAN GODDESS. 


The authorship of the Ionic piece in the corpus of Lucian, De 
Dea Syria, has never been thoroughly established. The majority 
of scholars in the early part of the last century believed in its 
Lucianic composition. See Mees, De Luciani studiis et scriptis 
iuvenilibus, 1841; and Planck, Quaestiones Lucianeae, 1850. 
But such scholars as Bekker, Dindorf, Sommerbrodt oppose this 
view. Croiset, La Vie et les Oeuvres de Lucien, 1892, p. 63, says: 
“Quant au morceau Sur la déesse syrienne, je le considére comme 
une habile et plaisante contrefagon d’Hérodote, dont |’écrivain 
imite non-seulement le langage, mais toutes les habitudes d’esprit 
jusque dans leurs moindres particularités. L’intention, dans ce 
cas, ne serait pas douteuse; sous une forme un peu plus dis- 
simulée, l’objet de l’écrit est le méme que celui de I’ Histoire 
vraie, montrer combien il est aisé de rendre vraisemblables, par 
un air de sincérité, des choses qu’on tire de son imagination en 
les mélant ἃ quelques détails exacts. Ainsi compris, ce morceau 
ne me semble pas indigne de l’auteur de |’ Histoire vraie, et il se 
relie naturellement ἃ cette série de compositions satiriques que 
nous venons de passer en revue.” The last writer I have noticed 
on the subject, Bolderman, Studia Lucianea, 1893, accepts it as 
Lucian’s and answers Dindorf’s arguments, the principal one 
being the dialect, the other its superstitious character. This 
latter point has been treated by Dr. Allinson in the American 
Journal of Philology, 7. 203 ff: “In the d.d.S.the hand of 
Lucian is suggested for the following reasons: 1. There is sup- 
pressed satire running through the piece. 2. The imitation of 
Herodotus is in many places decided enough to imply an author 
as familiar with Herodotus as we know Lucian to have been.” 
As Croiset finds the same general type of narration in the ἃ. d. S. 
as in True Histories, so Dr. Allinson collects under his first 
point a number of illustrations which are decidedly Lucianic in 
character. 

One of the most striking parallels between this work and parts 
of Lucian’s accepted works is the class of stories which remind us 


388 DANIEL A. PENICK. 


of accounts given in the Holy Scriptures. We are reminded of 
Jonah by Lucian’s marvelous fish story in True Histories. The 
Syrian from Palestine who cast out evil spirits (v. Philopseudes 16) 
reminds us of Christ, and again we think of Christ’s miracle in 
connection with the man who took up his bed and walked (v. 
Phil. 11). The same determined, satirical seriousness with which 
he tells these stories, the same spirit which leads him to begin 
one work by saying that he is going to tell as many and as big 
lies as possible, and another by asking why a man should lie 
deliberately when he is to gain no practical advantage, is manifest 
in the account of the deluge in the d. ἃ. S., 8812, 13, where the 
grave statement occurs, that all the water from the deluge ran 
into a small hole, an account referred to by Dr. Allinson as a 
comic imitation of Hdt. 

It is along the line of Herodotean imitation that I would study 
Lucian and the d.d.S. Dr. Allinson speaks of this point in 
general terms as follows: “ Lucian’s own expressions of contempt 
for those who affect Ionic, do not militate against the probability 
of his having tried to beat them at their own game, while at the 
same time he made good his opportunity for ridiculing the piety 
of the old historian as well as the superstitions of his own time. 
He has himself (Luc. XXI 1), apprised us of his admiration for 
Herodotus as a writer, and he certainly would have been as 
capable of imitating him as would any other writer of the second 
century A. D.” 

After citing a number of passages where imitation is clearly 
apparent, Allinson then gives a comparison of the Ionic forms.and 
the deviations from the Ionism of Hdt. that appear in the d.d.5S., 
the De Astrologia, and Arrian’s Historia Indica. My contribution 
to the subject is a short study of particles and the structure of the 
period, also a few remarks about verborum ubertas and whether 
ὀρθότης OF πλαγιασμός is preferred. I confine myself to the d. d.S. 

Let us then begin with the understanding that the d. d.S. is an 
intentional imitation of Hdt. Prof. Gildersleeve (A. J. P. 1.47) 
says that Herodotos “is more or less closely imitated” in the d. ἃ. 5. 
and the De Astrologia. The point at issue is, can we detect the 
character of imitation here that has been established for Lucian? 
I shall use the method and follow the order of investigation 
employed in my study entitled “ Herodotos in the Renascence.” 

It is in the direction of Herodotos’ greatest perfection, his most 


NOTES ON LUCIAN'S SYRIAN GODDESS. 389 


distinctive characteristics, that Lucian has imitated him, particu- 
larly in narrative passages. This perfection is designated by 
Aristotle as λέξις εἰρομένη. Parataxis is also used, not the parataxis 
of mere juxtaposition, but co-ordination by the use of co-ordinating 
particles and conjunctions, loose connections “ with many phrases 
for the purpose of introducing, recapitulating, or repeating a 
subject,” phrases characteristic of oral discourse. Even a casual 
reader of the ἃ. d. 5. would notice on the part of the author an 
effort to write paratactically by means of paratactic particles. 
The frequency of καί places polysyndeton very much in evidence. 
This effect is decidedly more marked in the d.d. S. than else- 
where in Lucian, but much less pleasing, as there is almost a total 
lack of that ease and variety exhibited in the narrative of 
Herodotos and present, though to a less degree, in other works of 
Lucian. Notwithstanding the frequency of re-xai (72 occurrences 
in 22 pp.), the skill of Hdt. is not present, and καί is often written 
where Hdt. would have written re. But the great abundance of 
these particles does not exclude μέν and δέ, nor even asyndetic 
parataxis. Let the following sentences illustrate these points. 
D. d. S. 24 (3. 471): pera δὲ παρεόντων of τῶν φίλων, of καὶ τότε πεμπο- 
μένῳ τῷ Κομβάβῳ παρεγένοντο, παραγαγὼν ἐς μέσον κατηγορέειν ἄρχετο καί οἱ 
μοιχηίην τε καὶ ἀκολασίην προὔφερε" κάρτα δὲ δεινοπαθέων πίστιν τε καὶ φιλίην 
ἀνεκαλέετο λέγων τρισσὰ Κομβάβον ἀδικέειν μοιχόν τε ἐόντα καὶ ἐς πίστιν 
ὑβρίσαντα καὶ ἐς θεὸν ἀσεβέοντα, τῆς ἐν τῷ ἔργῳ τοιάδε ἔπρηξε; 25 (3. 472): 
μετὰ δὲ μεγάλη δωρεὴ ἀπίξεται χρυσός τε πολλὸς καὶ ἄργυρος ἄπλετος καὶ 
ἐσθῆτες ᾿Ασσύριαι καὶ ἵπποι βασιλήιοι; 17 (3. 464): ὁ δὲ τῶν μὲν ἄλλων 
ἐσιόντων πάντων ἐν ἠρεμίῃ μεγάλῃ ἦν, ὡς δὲ ἡ μητρυιὴ ἀπίκετο, τήν τε χροιὴν 
ἠλλάξατο καὶ ἱδρώειν ἄρξατο καὶ τρόμῳ ἔχετο καὶ 7 καρδίη ἀνεπάλλετο᾽ τὰ δὲ 
γιγνόμενα ἐμφανέα τῷ ἰητρῷ τὸν ἔρωτα ἐποίεε ; ib. 1 (3. 451): δοκέει δέ μοι, 
τόδε τὸ οὔνομα οὐκ ἅμα τῇ πόλι οἰκεομένῃ ἐγένετο... ib. 28 (3. 475): 
δοκέει δ᾽ ὧν μοι, καὶ ὅδε ἐς ἐκείνου μίμησιν τοῦ ξυλίνου ἀνδρὸς ἀνέρχεται. 
With the last two passages, cf. Luc. Somn. 16 (1. 21): ταῦτα 
μέμνημαι ἰδὼν ἀντίπαις ἔτι ὦν, ἐμοὶ δοκεῖ, ἐκταραχθεὶς πρὸς τὸν τῶν πληγῶν 
φόβον. Sommerbrodt remarks upon this passage that ἐμοὶ δοκεῖν, 
ἐμοὶ δοκεῖ, μοι δοκεῖν, μοι δοκεῖ are Often used parenthetically in Lucian 
as here. See Lehmann onthe same passage and cf. Charon, c. 11. 
The last two passages are rightly compared with Herodotean 
usage by the editors and the d. d. S. is cited, where these expres- 
sions abound. Cf. §1 (3. 451), 8 (3. 456), 17 (3. 464), etc. 
Kalinka, Dissertationes Philologae Vindobonenses, 2. 145, has 


300 DANIEL A. PENICEK., 


pointed out Herodotos’ partiality for γάρ, which he, Grundmann, 
and others emphasize as a paratactic particle, when used as Hdt. 
has used it. I have called attention to the fact that Lucian in his 
narrative pieces makes frequent use of ydp after the Herodotean 
fashion. The great number of polysyndetic particles in the d. d. 5. 
has diminished the number of ydp’s. The proportion is slightly 
over one per page, this being less than half the average 
of Hdt. and Lucian’s typical narrative. But even here, if we can 
add strength to our assumption that the d. d. 5. is a conscious 
imitation of Hdt. by calling attention to the massing of particles 
in combination with ydp,a practice of Hdt., we strengthen the 
relationship between the d. d. 5. and Lucian, who on this point 
is very close to Hdt. The especial Herodotean’combination yap 
δή, which is also the most common combination in Lucian, occurs 
5, times in d. d. S., and always in still greater combinations, 6. g., 
καὶ yap δή (16), yap δὴ ὧν (6, 10, 56), καὶ yap δὴ ὧν (33). This heap- 
ing of particles seems to indicate an exaggeration of Hdt., who 
has great numbers of καὶ γάρ, yap δή, δὴ ὧν, and this exaggeration 
corresponds to the unusual abundance of xai’s and re’s. Similarly 
the author of the d.d.S.is no less fond of καὶ γάρ, and οὐ (οὐδέ, οὔτε) 
γάρ, which are so frequent in Hdt. and Luc. The most striking 
instance of Herodotean influence on Lucian in the use of this par- 
ticle is the important parenthetic yap. It occurs in the same way 
ind.d.S. Cf. 26 (3. 472) pera δὲ αἰτησάμενος ἐκτελέσαι τὰ λείποντα τῷ 
νηῷ---ἀτελέα γάρ μιν ἀπολελοίπεεν---οαὖτις ἐπέμπετο. With this compare 
other examples of yap very nearly related, 25 (3. 472): od γάρ μοι 
ταύτης ἀπολογίης ἔδεεν, 27 (3. 473): συνενείχθη yap οἱ καὶ τάδε. 

Ay is another Herodotean particle mentioned by Kalinka that 
demands attention. The same conditions as to the use of δή 
exist in the ἃ. d. S. asin the narrative of Lucian, whose use of 
the particle 1 have attributed to the influence of Herodotos for 
reasons which need not be stated here. Suffice it to say that 
the combinations of δή with other particles, such as καί, yap, μέν; 
are strikingly analogous in the three works. Here again is 
exemplified the same tendency to heap up particles, a tendency 
due to conscious imitation, which does not exist in Lucian’s 
natural narrative, where his familiarity with the prince of story- 
tellers comes out in unconscious imitation. 

This is not the place to treat subordinate clauses, but one or 
two statements as to final particles will not be amiss. ἵνα, Herod- 


NOTES ON LUCIAN'S SYRIAN GODDESS. 301 


otos’ favorite particle, which is also fairly frequent in Lucian and 
largely with the subjunctive, as in Hdt., is entirely wanting both 
in Lucian’s typical narrative, True Histories, and in the d. d. S. 
és, which is such a favorite with Lucian, is wanting in his True 
Histories and also in the d. d. S. 

The points made above concerning co-ordination and the use 
of co-ordinate particles are a most important factor in the study of 
periodic structure. We found that the constructions in the d.d.S. 
parallel those in Lucian’s narrative, which conform to the Hero- 
dotean standard. In like manner, in both, the sentences are 
comparatively short and have the same general “rosary” or 
“strung-on” effect, without any approach to Isocratean periods 
and cola: 6. g.,d. d. 5. 32 (3. 478): τὸ δὲ δὴ μέζονος λόγου ἄξιον, τοῦτο 
ἀπηγήσομαι" λίθον ἐπὶ τῇ κεφαλῇ φορέει, λυχνὶς καλέεται, οὔνομα δέ οἱ τοῦ 
ἔργου ἡ συντυχίη. ἀπὸ τούτου ἐν νυκτὶ σέλας πολλὸν ἀπολάμπεται, ὑπὸ δέ 
οἱ 6 νηὸς ἅπας οἷον ὑπὸ λύχνοισι φαείνεται" ἐν ἡμέρῃ δὲ τὸ μὲν φέγγος 
ἀσθενέει. ἰδέην δὲ ἔχει κάρτα πυρώδεα. Such passages abound in the 
d. d. 5. and, stripped of the dialect, might easily find a place in 
Lucian’s ordinary narrative. The great abundance of co-ordi- 
nating particles in d. d. S. is really an over-abundance, and often 
at the expense of participles. Here is where the piece falls short 
of both Hdt.and Luc. At no place can it be called polymetochic 
or even eumetochic, though a few sentences can be cited like 27 
(3. 473): ξείνη γυνὴ ἐς πανήγυριν ἀπικομένη ἰδοῦσα καλόν τε ἐόντα καὶ ἐσθῆτα 
ἔτι avdpninv ἔχοντα ἔρωτι μεγάλῳ ἔσχετο, μετὰ δὲ μαθοῦσα ἀτελέα ἐόντα 
ἑωυτὴν διειργάσατο. Sentences of this kind that do occur, however, 
are alternated with ametochic passages, just as they are in Hdt. 
and in Lucian’s narrative. Such an arrangement is hardly 
accidental. When a man is imitating intentionally, especially 
if he is struggling with a dialect not his own, the tendency is to 
overdo the imitation, as has been done in the d. d. S. in the effort 
after Herodotean co-ordination. When Lucian is writing natural- 
ly, as in his narrative pieces, the narrator, whose works he has 
conned so thoroughly that they are almost entirely assimilated, 
leaves an undeniable yet all unconscious impress. 

This greater ametochic effect in the ἃ. ἃ. 5. would allow more 
opportunity for Gorgianic figures, but very little, if any, difference 
is perceptible. By the side of pure paronomasia we find some 
15 examples of the λόγον λέγειν group. Cf. Hdt. 1. 14: ἀνέθηκε 
ἀναθήματα. Repetition is on a par with Hdt. and Luc.; also pari- 


302 DANIEL A. PENICK. 


son. Paromoion is naturally a little more frequent, owing to the 
large number of co-ordinate finite verbs. The λόγον λέγειν group, 
another over-imitation in keeping with the general spirit of 
ridicule in the piece, may be taken as evidence bearing upon 
verborum ubertas. Add §29 (3. 475): εἰ δέ τις τόδε μὲν οὐκ ὄπωπεν, 
ὄπωπε δὲ φοινικοβατέοντας. Cf. Hdt. 1. 24: στάντα ἐν τοῖσι ἑδωλίοισι 
ἀεῖσαι᾽ ἀείσας δὲ ὑπεδέκετο. Here should be mentioned a most 
interesting point of agreement between the d.d. S. and Lucian’s 
narrative, a practice evidently Herodotean, viz., the sum- 
marizing of preceding facts with μέν and opposing the summary 
to something which follows introduced by δέ. Cf. 8 (3. 456): 
ὁ μέν pot Βύβλιος τοσαῦτα ἀπηγέετο With Luc., Ver. Hist. 1. 36 (2. 99): 
τοιαύτη μὲν ἡ χώρα ἐστίν" ὑμᾶς δὲ χρὴ ὁρᾶν bras... Addd.d.S. 12 
(3. 459) : τὰ μὲν Δευκαλίωνος πέρι Ἕλληνες ἱστορέουσι; 13 (23. 459): ὁ μὲν 
ὧν ἀρχαῖος αὐτοῖσι λόγος ἀμφὶ τοῦ ἱροῦ τοιόσδε ἐστί; 27 (3. 473): Κομβάβου 
μέν μοι πέρι τοσάδε εἰρήσθω ; 17 (3. 465); 23 (3. 470). 

As is to be supposed from the foregoing considerations, ὀρθότης 
is the type of periodic structure in the d. d. S. rather than 
πλαγιασμός. Almost every sentence from the beginning to the 
end is an illustration, and naturally, inasmuch as ὀρθότης and 
co-ordination are congenial associates. 

The d. d. S. also shows a tendency to over-imitate Hdt. in 
the use of anastrophic πέρι, showing 15 examples of πέρι to 3 
of περί. Lucian does not show this extreme tendency, but it is 
decidedly interesting to note that where he calls up Hdt. in the 
De Domo 20, he makes him talk Ionic and use πέρι. 

In §§ 25, 31, 33, 50, 54 of the d. d. S. are examples of οὐδέ used 
after an affirmative sentence for καὶ οὐ, another Herodotean con- 
struction, used also by the poets. Kriiger has already pointed 
out that later writers followed the same practice, and his state- 
ment is reinforced by du Mesnil, Grammatica quam Lucianus 
in scriptis suis secutus est ratio etc., Stolp, 1867, p. 48, so that 
the point would not amount to much for our purpose, if special 
mention were not made of Lucian, and if Lucian did not use it in 
passages decidedly Herodotean, such as Dial. Mar. 8. 1. 

Finally, as Herodotos is careful to leave the impression that he 
must not be held responsible for all the statements he makes, so 
Lucian in the preface to his True Histories states that he is not 
going to utter one word of truth, and then, like Hdt., apologizes 
for remarkable stories. Similar expressions abound in the 


NOTES ΟΝ LUCIAN'S SYRIAN GODDESS. 393 


4 5 Cf 7 {2.455} tr 3: 457) 3/19) (ar 450) eye Oe cal τὸ 
χάσμα εἶδον, καὶ ἔστιν ὑπὸ τῷ νηῷ κάρτα μικρόν: 28 (3.474); 29 (23. 476); 
39 (3. 484); 45 (3. 484); 48 (3. 485): ἀλλ᾽ ἐγὼ τουτέων πέρι σαφὲς 
οὐδὲν ἔχω εἰπεῖν" οὐ γὰρ ἦλθον αὐτὸς οὐδὲ ἐπειρήθην ταύτης τῆς ὁδοιπορίης " τὰ 
δὲ ἐλθόντες ποιέουσιν, εἶδον καὶ ἀπηγήσομαι; 60 (3. 490): καὶ ὧδε ποιέουσι. 
In fact, such expressions are too common. Here, as elsewhere, 
the feeling is that the imitation is overdone. 

To further illustrate this principle of over-imitation in the d. d. 
S., one or two strong Herodotean peculiarities not common in 
Lucian’s narrative may be mentioned. Note the extraordinary 
frequency of ὅδε in all of its forms, and of the article used asa relative 
in such expressions 85 τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν, 2 (3. 452). This is very 
much overdone. Then we find prepositions used independently 
or adverbially, especially ἐν and μετά. Cf. 38 (3. 482), 39 (3. 482), 
49 (3. 485). Again κάρτα which is found to an appreciable extent 
only in Hdt. and tragedy abounds here. Cf. Luc. Calumn. 3 
(3. 128). This fact, that there are in the d. ἃ. 5. instances of 
decided imitation which do not appear in Lucian’s best narrative, 
has no weight in arguing against the Lucianic composition of the 
d. d. S., but rather tends in the other direction. It is far more 
natural that he should have emphasized by over-imitation Herodo- 
tean peculiarities, whether they represent the best Attic or not, 
rather than pass over those peculiarities for others which he has 
found most useful in his best narrative. In his Attic narrative 
Lucian has been influenced more or less unconsciously by 
Herodotos in those things which go to make the best, the most 
interesting and the most attractive narrative. In the d. d. S. 
Lucian has tried to give a literal imitation of Herodotos in every 
detail, in a spirit of ridicule, without much care or regard for 
general effect. In consequence he is natural in the one and un- 
natural in the other. 

These considerations strengthen my own belief in the Lucianic 
composition of the d. d. S., whatever its defects may be both asa 
work of Lucian himself and as an imitation of Herodotos. 


UNIVERSITY OF TEXAS. DANIEL A. PENICK. 


vid THO 
“ ihe janie 





THE GREETING IN THE LETTERS OF CICERO.’ 


In modern letter-writing there is a great variety of forms 
in use for the address and subscription of a letter, and each form 
represents more or less exactly a definite idea. We recognize 
instinctively the feeling which each expresses, and can classify the 
various forms into groups representing in a general way different 
degrees of intimacy between the correspondents. We are in the 
habit of employing different forms for our different correspondents, 
and of varying them as our relations change. The address and 
corresponding subscription are harmonious in spirit, and often 
form a safer basis for determining the feeling of the writer towards 
his correspondent than the contents of his letter. The letter may 
be a business one and colorless in tone, but the address and sub- 
scription will indicate the true or pretended feeling of the writer. 

The greeting at the beginning of the Roman letter corresponds 
in meaning to the address and subscription of the modern letter, 
and exhibits an equally large variety of forms. It is the purpose 
of this paper to classify the forms of greeting in the letters of 
Cicero into certain groups, and determine the feeling that each 
group expresses. 

Nearly all the letters in the collections ad Atticum and ad 
Brutum have a uniform greeting (Cicero Attico Sal. and Cicero 
Bruto Sal.), which suggests the possibility of later editing. Throw- 
ing out these and all instances due to conjecture in the edition 
of Baiter and Kayser we have the greeting in 374 letters to 
consider. 

The greeting in each case consists of the name of the writer in 
the nominative, the name of the person addressed in the dative, 
and some form of salutation expressed or implied. Either name 
may be given in full with the three parts, praenomen, nomen and 
cognomen, or with only one or two parts. The form of the 


1Babl, De Epistularum Latinarum Formulis, 1893, pp. 17-18, barely 
touches upon the subject of this paper. Peter’s Der Brief in der rém, 
Lit., Teubner, 1901 I know only from the title given in the list of new books 
in a recent number of the Woch. f. Klass. Phil. 


306 E. M. PEASE. 


greeting may be varied by the addition of the father’s name, by 
both the father’s and grand-father’s, and by a free use of titles. 
There is also equal variety in the form of the salutation; it may 
be omitted, or may be expressed by the abbreviations S., Sal., 
S. D., S. P. D., suo S. P. D., suo dulcissimo S., etc., or it may 
be written more or less in full. 

The following is a series of representative forms of greeting: 

Cicero Varroni. 

Cicero Varroni Sal. 

Cicero S. D. Paeto. 

Cicero Cassio S. 

Cicero Servio S. 

Tullius S. D. Terentiae suae. 

Tullius Terentiae suae Sal. Plurimam. 

Tullius Tironi Sal. 

Tullius Tironi suo Sal. 

Marcus Quinto Fratri Salutem. 

M. Cicero S. D. Curio. 

M. Cicero S. D. C. Furnio. 

M. Cicero S. D. D. Bruto Imp. Cos. Desig. 

M. Cicero S. D. C. Antonio M. F. Imp. 

M. Tullius M. F. Cicero S. D. Cn. Pompeio Cn. F. Magno 
Imperatori. 

M. Tullius M. F. M. N. Cicero Imp. S. D. C. Caelio L. F. C. 
N. Caldo Quaest. 

From this list of typical examples one can form some idea of 
the many possible varieties. 

Comparing the relation of the names alone in the letters of 
Cicero, i. e., taking no account of the salutation, I have noted 39 
different types. If then we consider the form of the salutation 
and its relation to the names, we shall find the number greatly 
increased. The various types, however, fall more or less dis- 
tinctly into five or six groups. There are five different combi- 
nations which Cicero employs for his own name: Cicero, Marcus 
Cicero, Tullius, Marcus, Marcus Tullius Cicero, in the order of 
frequency. The nomen cognomen (Tullius Cicero) and the prae- 
nomen nomen (M. Tullius) never occur. For the name of the 
recipient he uses six forms, viz.: Cognomen, Nomen, Praenomen 
cognomen, Praenomen nomen, Praenomen, Praenomen nomen 
cognomen, and avoids the form Nomen cognomen. The form 


THE GREETING IN THE LETTERS OF CICERO. 397 


Praenomen nomen (M. Tullius), which Cicero avoids in the case 
of his own name, but uses frequently for the name of his corres- 
pondents, is often necessary because of the lack of the cognomen, 
once the mark of nobility. 

We have seen that there is a great variety of forms in the 
Roman greeting, and it is reasonable to suppose, from the an- 
alogy of modern letters, that they express an equally wide range of 
meanings. There is perhaps sufficient proof of this in the greet- 
ings themselves. In the first place there is an evident attempt to 
maintain a perfect balance between the forms of the two names 
which in itself suggests that each form has a certain significance 
or feeling. Ina way the name of the sender corresponds to the 
subscription of the modern letter and the name of the recipient 
to the address of the modern letter. A glance at the lists of 
greetings will show that the harmony in the form of the two 
names in Latin is as marked as inthe address and subscription 
of the modern letter. Furthermore, it may be noted that the 
greeting varies in a conspicuous way with different correspondents, 
and usually only slightly, if at all, in a series of letters to any one 
person; that in some of the few cases where there is a marked 
difference in the form of greeting to a particular person the 
change coincides with some known change in feeling. A third 
proof that the greeting is an essential part of the letter and indic- 
ative of the feeling existing between the correspondents is the 
fact that whenever Cicero encloses a copy of a letter in the one he 
is writing, whether his own or one he has received, he is always 
careful to preserve the greeting. There is also noticeable harmony 
between the form of the salutation in each greeting and the form 
ofthe names. The forms indicative of friendship or intimacy are 
found only with certain forms of the names which we may assume 
to be familiar forms, e. g. Tullius S. D. Terentiae Suae; Tullius 
et Cicero Tironi suo S. P. Ὁ. Again, the use of the father’s 
name, grandfather’s name, and titles, is found only with certain 
other forms of the name, and helps us to determine and grade 
the more formal types of greeting. 

After recognizing that each form of greeting expresses some 
definite feeling or degree of intimacy, we can classify the various 
forms into certain natural groups, and ascertain the meaning of 
the characteristic forms in each group from our knowledge of the 
intimacy existing between Cicero and the well-known correspond- 


308 E. M. PEASE. 


ents, and from incidental hints in the literature. This I have 
attempted to do for the letters of Cicero, but space will permit 
the consideration of only certain typical cases and the statement 
of the results. 

Cicero uses his praenomen (Marcus), which corresponds to our 
Christian name, only in addressing his brother Quintus. Marcus 
and Quintus were the familiar names of their boyhood, and it is 
but natural that they should retain them in their correspondence 
of later years—always, however, with the term “ frater” added, 
thus ‘‘ Marcus Quinto Fratri Salutem.” The only other corres- 
pondents whom Cicero addresses by the first name are Servius 
Sulpicius Rufus and Appius. In the 17 letters of Sulpicius, 11 
have only the praenomen “Servius.” We know him to be one 
of Cicero’s dearest friends. They were both of equestrian rank, of 
about the same age, and had been playmates and school-fellows 
together. They continued their studies abroad together and re- 
mained firm friends throughout life. Sulpicius’ beautiful letter 
of condolence to Cicero on the death of Tullia is evidence of their 
lasting friendship. It is not strange that Cicero should continue 
to address Sulpicius by the name of his boyhood. The only 
other use of the praenomen is the brief, colorless letter ad Fam. 
X. 29, with the greeting “Cicero Appio S.”, and it is said to refer 
to some other Appius than Appius Claudius, the elder brother 
of the notorious Clodia. We can safely say that if the principle 
which this paper seeks to establish is true, there was no Appius 
of the Claudian family whom Cicero would think of addressing 
by his praenomen. Some late MSS read “Ampio” here, and 
there was a Titus Ampius Balbus whom Cicero in ad Fam. VI. 
12 addresses thus: “Cicero Ampio S. P.”, employing the same 
greeting as here, if we change Appio, the praenomen, to Ampio 
the nomen. Good evidence can be brought forward in favor of 
this change. 

Cicero uses his nomen “Tullius” only in addressing the mem- 
bers of his family, and Tiro his freedman. In his 24 letters to 
Terentia and his children, 23 begin with Tullius, and one has no 
nominative, the greeting being simply “suis 5. 1). This use 
of “ Tullius”? corresponding in form with Terentia and Tullia 


1 Among the letters of Cicero’s correspondents there are four cases in 
which the author uses his nomen. In three of these the author has no 
cognomen, so far as we know; Curius (M.) Ciceroni Suo Sal., Fam. 7. 29; 


THE GREETING IN THE LETTERS OF CICERO. 399 


seems clearly familiar, and an appropriate form for expressing 
the intimacy of the family and for those for whom the praenomen 
would be inappropriate. To Tiro also, who was always regarded 
a member of his family and as dear as his own son, Cicero used 
this form in 20 out of 21 instances. Cicero’s son writing to Tiro 
addresses him Cicero Filius Tironi suo dulcissimo S. 

The use of the nomen in the dative was often used by Cicero 
in connection with the cognomen in nominative. This combina- 
tion is more familiar than cognomen and cognomen. Yet it is in 
some cases necessary when addressing those who have no cog- 
nomen. This use of the nomen (i. e. cognomen and nomen) is 
found in the 17 letters to Trebatius, Cicero’s young friend and 
protégé, the brilliant young lawyer whom Cicero twits on his 
cowardice in battle, but in whose company he delights to discuss 
knotty problems in law over his wine cups. Of the fifteen other 
correspondents whom Cicero addresses with the nomen in the 
dative 11 had no cognomen, so far as we know. Five of his 
7 letters to Ὁ. Cornificius were thus addressed. He was a good 
friend of Cicero, and his colleague in the college of Augurs. 
Cicero dedicated one of his rhetorical works to him. Μ᾽, Curius, 
to whom three letters were addressed with this form, was very 
intimate with Cicero, as is known from the many references to 
him, and from the fact that in his will he left Cicero considerable 
property. Two of the three letters to C. Memmius are of the 
same form, and there are several passages in which Cicero speaks 
of him in friendly words of praise. There are two letters to 
Ligarius with this form, the man whom Cicero defended so vigor- 
ously in the extant speech. In the same way we find Cicero address- 
ing Cn. Domitius Ahenobarbus, the son of that haughty aristocrat, 
who aided Cicero so successfully in his canvass for the consulship. 
The letter is a sympathetic appeal for Domitius to yield to the 
will of Caesar and to accept pardon after the utter defeat of the 
Pompeian party. The other letters with this form of greeting 
are for the most part also to those whom we know to have been 
intimate with Cicero. 

The use of the cognomen for the name of the writer is by far 





Trebonius Ciceroni Sal., Fam. 12. 16; Matius Ciceroni Sal., Fam. 11. 28; 
the fourth is Caelius Ciceroni Sal., Fam, 8. 1-17. They are all intimate 
friends of Cicero, but in no case do they address him by his nomen. 


400 E. M. PEASE. 


the most frequent form, occurring 181 times; and the combination 
cognomen and cognomen is also the commonest formula, 
occurring 93 times. It represents a friendly relation between the 
correspondents, and is used in social letters and in letters between 
friends doing business with one another. This form of address 
is used in the 5 letters to M. Brutus in the collection ad Fam. 
(also in the collection ad Brut.); in the 12 to his good friend 
Paetus; in 15 of the 17 to Plancus, the friend of his adversity, 
whom he afterward befriended; in 6 of his 7 to his son-in-law, 
Dolabella; in the one to his would-be son-in-law, Crassipes; in 7 
of the 8 to the great scholar, Varro; and so on in the letters of his 
less famous friends. 

The formula praenomen cognomen is second to the simple 
cognomen in point of frequency, occurring 129 times in the first 
part of the address and 60 times in the second. The number 
is smaller in the second part because of the lack of the cognomen 
in many names, praenomen nomen often taking the place. The 
formula praenomen cognomen and praenomen cognomen has 
a business tone and is found in 11 of the 12 to Appius Claudius, 
in the three letters to Cato, in the 14 letters to D. Brutus, in the 
letters to Metellus Nepos, in 2 of his three letters to Pompey, 
in 1 of the 7 letters to Dolabella, in one of the letters to Plancus, 
his friend, and so on with a large number of his political associates. 

The use of the praenomen nomen in the second part is 
more familiar, or else due to lack of cognomen. It occurs in such 
letters as the 4 to Marius, 6 of the 17 to Servius Sulpicius, 2 of the 
3 to Trebonius, in the 9 to Caelius. The full name praenomen 
nomen cognomen in both parts was decidedly formal and official, 
and in all but three cases was supplemented with the name of the 
father (sometimes the grandfather also), or with titles, or both. 
Cicero sometimes used the praenomen cognomen for his own 
name and the full name in the second part, thus making the whole 
slightly less formal and paying the compliment to his corres- 
pondent. 

Three hundred and fifty-five of the 374 greetings may be 
reduced to the following five general classes,’ which with the 


1 The feeling of these five classes may be represented in a general way 
by the following English forms of address: 1. My dear Charles. 2. My 
dear Walker. 3. My dear Mr. Walker. 4. Mr. Charles H. Walker, Dear 
Sir. 5. Hon, Charles Hadley Walker, Superintendent of Public Works, 
Dear Sir. 


THE GREETING IN THE LETTERS OF CICERO. 40! 


intermediate ones are arranged in order according to the degrees 
of familiarity they represent. The number of occurrences is 
given for each in parenthesis : 


Close friendship, of long 
-. { Praen. & Praen. (20) standing, perhaps from 
(a2) Nom. & Praen. (20) boyhood. 
The intimacy of the fam- 
Be ce Ἀν τὸ τ ὕόων (55) ily, or the friendship of 
τε λα om Ads maturer years. 
Cogn. & Cogn. (93) Cordial aud fiepal 
+) (4) Cogn. & Praen. Nom. (7) Abt ρρ ἀν ἀμ} ἸΡΉ Lh 
(6) Cogn. & Praen. Cogn. (11) Σ 
{ (a) Praen. Cogn. & Praen. } 


Nom. (54) : : 
ie) Praen. Cogn. & Praen.Cogn.(50) ὃ Merely business or polit- 


{ (6) Praen. Cogn. & Praen. ical acquaintance. 
Nom. Cogn. (4) 


Praen. Nom. Cogn. & Praen. 


Nom. Cogn. (5) \ Very formal and official. 


The familiar forms may be made more cordial by the use of 
plurimam, or suo, or some adjective; and the more reserved ones 
may be made more formal by the addition of titles, father’s name, 
etc. The remaining 19 instances are somewhat irregular and fail 
to give a proper balance to thetwonames. They are represented 
by the three forms: 

Cogn. δὲ Praen. Nom. Cogn. (2) 

Praen. Cogn. & Nom. (10) 

Praen. Cogn, & Cogn. (7) 


One of the places to which we may apply the principles of this 
paper is in the greeting of the letters to Atticus. The form 
Cognomen & Cognomen (Cicero Attico Sal.) is the most common 
of all, and the one an editor would be likely to use if he sought 
uniformity; but inasmuch as the greeting is indicative of feeling, 
Atticus himself would probably be the only editor who would 
venture to change the original forms, or desire to reduce all toa 
common level; and of course there are good reasons for believing 
that he prepared the collection for publication. This friendly 
but somewhat business-like formula is not the one that we should 

26 


402 Lo VME SE, 


expect to find occurring so frequently in Cicero’s letters to 
Atticus, certainly not so uniformly; especially when we consider 
that a continued correspondence in the case of others usually 
shows some variety, and that in the body of the letters to Atticus 
Cicero shows variety in the form of address, using in order of 
frequency the forms Atticus, Pomponius, Titus, and Titus Pom- 
ponius. The one exception of moment to the standard formula is 
the playful address in III. 20 (Cicero S. D. Q. Caecilio Q. F. 
Pomponiano Attico, quod quidem ita etc.), which is an essential 
part of the letter and could not be changed by the editor." 


1 Since this paper was read by title before the American Philelogical 
Association July, 1895, an interesting article has appeared in the Classical 
Review, 1898, p. 438 ff. by Cora M. Porterfield, in which the author 
would prove the traditional greeting, Cicero Attico Sal., genuine. Against 
the charge of uniformity she cites as instances of variety the form in III. 
20, six omissions of Sal., 3 occurrences of S. D., one of Sal. Dic., and one 
of Salutem Dicit, and refers to instances of approximate uniformity in 
the letters to certain other correspondents. 

Unfortunately Miss Porterfield proves too much. The variations S., 
Sal., Salutem, etc., are unessential and none of the editors are careful to 
follow the MSS. Even Mendelssohn is careless in this particular. Among 
the instances cited as examples of uniformity she fails to notice that only 
two of the ten greetings in the letters to Lentulus are genuine, and that 
they are not uniform in the MSS, that only 7 of the 14 cases for Corni- 
ficius are genuine and they also differ, that inthe case of the other authors 
cited the number of variants from the standard type is larger than is 
supposed, as no account is taken of letters to the same correspondents to 
be found in other books than the ones mentioned. This part of the argu- 
ment breaks down completely on a careful examination of all the cases. 
The numbers cited for the various lists differ materially from mine, but the 
only one that I have attempted to test is in the statement concerning the 
letters to Tiro where it should be stated that one and not nine of the 26 
greetings correspond to the type in the letters to Atticus. On second 
thought one would see that there is little point in citing the name of Tiro, 
for Cicero could hardly employ any other name for his freedman. 

The arguments from the use of the forms of address in the letters 
(Tite, 1, Pomponi, 8, and Attice, 19) may be turned about and used in sup- 
port of the theory of later editing. If I may trust my own index of 
proper names for the letters ad Atticum there are 33 instances of the form 
Atticus (including the vocative and other cases), 7 of Pomponius (usually 
with mi expressing marked intimacy), 3 of T. Pomponius, and 2 of Titus. 
The other arguments are also equally forceful in support of variety in the 
original greetings and of later editing. 


THE GREETING IN THE LETTERS OF CICERO. 403 


There is a somewhat important question of interpretation in 
Latin which we are now in a position to consider. Here and 
there throughout the literature names are used in the vocative of 
address, and there is no agreement among scholars as to the 
meaning suggested by the different forms. One may notice the 
various views held on such passages as Hor. Sat. 2. 5. 32, 
“Quinte,” puta, aut “ Publi” (gaudent praenomine molles Auri- 
culae), “the praenomen tickles the sensitive ear” ; Hor. Sat. 2. 6. 37, 
Pers. V. 79, Cic. Fam. VII. 32, and many others. For example, 
Orelli on the first passage in Horace maintains that the praenomen 
belongs to freemen, and is used among relatives and friends. 
Gildersleeve on Pers. V. 74 also says that only freemen were 
entitled to the praenomen. Tyrrell on Cic. Fam. VII. 32 takes 
exception to the view of Orelliand affirms that it was the om7zssion 
of the praenomen that was a mark of intimacy in the time of 
Cicero, and quotes the following from the beginning of the letter: 

Quod sine praenomine familiariter, ut debebas, ad me epistolam 
misisti, primum addubitavi num a Volumnio senatore esset, quo- 
cum mihi est magnus usus, deinde εὐτραπελία litterarum fecit, ut 
intellegerem tuas esse. 

Reid on this same passage differs with both in holding that the 
address dy one name only was the familiar style. Any one who 
has read thus far in this paper can see how there is some truth in 
each of these views, and how no one fully expresses the principle. 
A study of the greetings makes the subject perfectly clear. 
But to turn to this passage from Cicero again, which has never 
been properly interpreted, it is probable that the letter to which 
Cicero refers was addressed on the outside simply M. Tullio (cf. 
Μ᾽. Curio, ad. Att. VIII. 5. 2, and M. Lucretio, ona Pompeian wall 
painting), and that the greeting read, Volumnius S. D. Tullio, a 
form expressive of close intimacy * (sine praenomine familiariter). 
Cicero in order to introduce a delicate compliment says that with 
the praenomen omitted he was in doubt whether the letter was 
from him, P. Volumnius, or the Senator L. Volumnius, with whom 
he was on intimate terms, until the spicy style of the letter itself 
revealed the writer. Hethen assures Volumnius that this form 
of address was much more acceptable than a formal one, meaning 
perhaps P. Eutrapelus M. Tullio S. D. 


1See class 2, page 401 above. 


404 Ε. M. PEASE. 


Space will not permit me to do more than mention other 
questions to which the principles of this paper may be made to 
apply. They may be used in testing the large number of greet- 
ings that have been introduced by conjecture, in determining the 
value of various emendations that have been made in others, in 
correcting certain errors in the tradition of the MSS, and with the 
aid of complete indexes of proper names in establishing the text 
of the letters in regard to proper names, and in distinguishing men 
of the same name. Weare also ina position to form some idea 
of the relative esteem in which Cicero held many of his acquaint- 
ances, and in some instances where almost nothing is known of a 
correspondent we can learn something of Cicero’s feeling for him 
from the greeting alone. 

LELAND STANFORD JR. UNIVERSITY. E. M. PEASE. 


ORATION XI OF DIO CHRYSOSTOMUS. 
A Strupy IN SOURCES. 


Dio Chrysostomus’ Oration XI, Τρωϊκὸς ὑπὲρ rod Ἴλιον μὴ 
ἁλῶναι, is the centre of his sophistic studies upon Homer. It is 
the sole surviving treatise which preserves, in organic sequence, 
traces of the adverse Homeric criticism of preceding centuries. 
The fact that modern scholars have differed widely as to its real 
purpose and date’ should not be allowed to obscure its undeni- 
ably sophistic character.” It is not necessary, however, to assign 
it to Dio’s distinctively rhetorical, that is, pre-exilic, period. 
It is very probable that he wrote it even in the midst of the 
sober efforts of his philosophical period, as a burlesque upon 
the methods of the Sophists, the professional truth-teachers, 
and with the express purpose of so treating a preposterous 
theme as to beat them on their own ground. Its tone, therefore, 
is much the same as that of Isocrates’ Βούσιρις and Ἑλένης 
ἐγκώμιον. The abuse which the oration heaps upon the Soph- 
ists and their methods is manifestly Isocratean* in tone, though 
in language it is an imitation of Plato.° 

The framework of Oration XI is the application of Aristotle’s 
theory of τὸ εἰκός and τὸ ἀναγκαῖον, as laid down in the Rhet- 
oric, Bk. I, ch. 2, 8814, 15. Dio, however, has done exactly 
what Aristotle forbids, and has applied the theory to the events 
of an artistic creation. He rejects the limiting dictum of the 
Poetics, ch. IX, §1, 1451 a 38: οὐ τὸ τὰ γενόμενα λέγειν, τοῦτο ποιητοῦ 


» > , 3 ese a , ‘ \ ‘ \ \ Ὁ a AT ie 2 “ 
εργον εστιν, ἀλλ ola ἂν γένοιτο και Τα δυνατὰ Κατα TO €LKOS ἢ TO αναΎΚαιον- 


1See Hagen, Quaestiones Dioneae, Kiel, 1887, pp. 42 f., for résumé of 
opinions of Casaubon, Burckhardt, Diimmler, von Wilamowitz-Méllen- 
dorff. 

2See von Arnim, Leben und Werke des Dio von Prusa, Berlin, 1898, 
pp. 166-169. 

3 Cf, Jebb, Attic Orators, Vol. II, pp. 93 ff. 

4Cf, Or. XI, §§ 11, τό, 18, 19, 23, with the Helen, §§ 2-13, and with the 
κατὰ TOV σοφιστῶν, 881, 2. 

5 Cf. the Republic, Bk. Χ, 595 Β, C. 


406 WALTER A. MONTGOMERY. 


Cf. also ch. XXIV, §10: προαιρεῖσθαί τε δεῖ ἀδύνατα εἰκότα μᾶλλον ἢ 
δυνατὰ ἀπίθανα. Cf. also ch. XXV, §17, 1461 Ὁ 10-13: ὅλως δὲ τὸ 
ἀδύνατον μὲν ἢ πρὸς τὴν ποίησιν ἢ πρὸς τὸ βέλτιον ἢ πρὸς τὴν δόξαν δεῖ 
ἀνάγειν. πρός τε γὰρ τὴν ποίησιν αἱρετώτερον πιθανὸν ἀδύνατον ἢ ἀπίθανον 
καὶ δυνατόν. «++ πρὸς «δ᾽» ἅ φασιν, τἄλογα. οὕτω τε καὶ ὅτι ποτὲ οὐκ 
ἄλογόν ἐστιν᾽ εἰκὸς γὰρ καὶ παρὰ τὸ εἰκὸς γίνεσθαι. Similarly, each step 
in the argument of Oration XI is a perversion of some Aristo- 
telian principle of Homeric criticism. 

These principles of Aristotelian and Peripatetic criticism upon 
Homer are, as is well known, represented only in the Scholia 
upon Homer, and chiefly in those which bear the name of Por- 
phyry. The adverse side of this criticism represents the labors 
of the ἐνστατικοί, from Zoilos down; the explanatory and de- 
fensive, those of the λυτικοί. It is the purpose of this paper to 
show, from close parallelisms between these Scholia and Oration 
XI, that Dio’s sources were Porphyry’s as well, and consequently 
to indicate Aristotelian sources and influence for Oration XI. 

Dio sets it as his task to show in what points Homer has 
misrepresented the story of Troy, and to refute him from his 
own poems,—a manifest perversion of the Aristarchean maxim, 
Ὅμηρον ἐξ ‘Ounpov σαφηνίζειν. 

1. According to the universally accepted tradition, Homer was 
a beggar. It is not probable that beggars in his day were more 
trustworthy than they are at present. Nor do even his admirers 
maintain that he was free from falsehood. This is Aristotelian; 
cf. Poetics, ch. XXIV, §§8, 9: τὸ δὲ θαυμαστὸν 780" σημεῖον δέ" πάντες 
yap προστιθέντες ἀπαγγέλλουσιν ws χαριζόμενοι. δεδίδαχεν δὲ μάλιστα Ὅμηρος 
καὶ τοὺς ἄλλους ψευδῆ λέγειν ὡς δεῖ. In spirit this point is Platonic; 
cf. the Republic, Bk. II, 334 Β. 

2. Dio dismisses as commonplaces Homer’s false and scan- 
dalous representations of the gods,’ and maintains that even 
on minor points Homer is a liar. Homer reports scenes and 
conversations among the gods of which it was impossible that 
he should have knowledge. He even pretends to know the 
language of the gods,—a manifest absurdity.? But not even 


1 The language is a close imitation of Plato, Rep. Bk. II, 378 Ὁ; III, 386 
Ay. 

3. Cf. for the language, the Cratylus, 391 D. For Dio’s a srior¢ argument, 
cf. Isocrates, κατὰ τῶν σοφιστῶν, § 2, ov τὴν ἐκείνων (τῶν ϑεῶν) γνώμην εἰδώς, 
ἀλλ᾽ ἡμῖν ἐνδείξασϑαι βουλόμενος ὅτι τοῖς ἀνθρώποις ἕν τοῦτο τῶν ἀδυνάτων ἐστίν. 


ORATION XI OF DIO CHRYSOSTOMUS. 407 


Homer, with all his effrontery, dares vouch for these stories, but 
resorts to the device of putting them in the mouths of his char- 
acters." 

3. Homer’s starting-point and conclusion seem chosen utterly 
at random.’ 

4. The Homeric account of Helen’s abduction is totally false. 
It is unreasonable that Alexander should have become enamored 
of a woman whom he had never seen, and that she, in turn, should 
have been persuaded to leave all that was dear to her, in order to 
follow a man of alien race. It was because of this ἀλογία, and in 
order to aid Homer in his embarrassment, that men had to fashion 
the myth of Aphrodite’s assisting Alexander in return for his 
decision in favor of her beauty.’ Every circumstance points to 
Helen’s having been given in legal marriage by her father, who 
had power‘ to bestow her as he pleased. Even if Alexander 
himself had wished to pursue such a course as Homer ascribes 
to him, it is not probable that his discreet brother Hector would 
have allowed it at first, or, having allowed it, would later have 


1 Such is Dio’s perversion of the well-known λύσις ἐκ τοῦ προσώπου. Cf, 
also the Poetics, ch. XXIV, §7: Ὅμηρος ... ἄξιος ἐπαινεῖσθαι, ... ὅτι μόνος 
τῶν ποιητῶν οὐκ ἀγνοεῖ ὃ δεῖ ποιεῖν αὐτόν. αὐτὸν γὰρ δεῖ τὸν ποιητὴν ἐλάχιστα 
λέγειν. ov γάρ ἐστι κατὰ ταῦτα μιμητής. ... ὁ δὲ ὀλίγα φροιμιασάμενος, εὐϑὺς εἰσάγει 
ἄνδρα ἢ γυναῖκα ἢ ἄλλο τι, καὶ οὐδὲν ἄηϑες, ἀλλ᾽ ἔχοντα ἤϑη. 

2Cf£. Porphyry, Schol. to A 1: διὰ τί ἀπὸ τῶν τελευταίων ἤρξατο, καὶ μὴ ἀπὸ 
τῶν πρώτων ὁ ποιητῆς ; and further, on the poet’s beginning with the unlucky 
word μῆνες: ἐπιλύουσι δὲ αὐτὸ οἱ περὶ Ζηνόδοτον οὕτως ὅτι πρέπον ἐστὶ τῇ ποιήσει 
τὸ προοίμιον, τὸν νοῦν τῶν ἀκρυατῶν διεγεῖρον καὶ προσεχεστέρους ποιοῦν, εἰ, 
μέλλει πολέμους καὶ ϑανάτους διηγεῖσϑαι. Cf. also Porphyry on Μ 127: 
καὶ γὰρ οὗτος εἷς τρόπος ἑρμηνείας, ἐκ τῶν ὕστερον ἀρξάμενον ἀναδραμεῖν εἰς τὰ 
πρῶτα καὶ πάλιν συνάψαι ταῦτα τοῖς ὑστέροις. ... οὕτως γὰρ (ὁ ποιητὴς) εὐθὺς κατ᾽ 
ἀρχὰς τὴν μῆνιν εἰπὼν κεφαλαιωδῶς, ὅσων κακῶν αἰτία γέγονε τοῖς “Ἑλλησιν, ὕστερον 
ἐπὶ τὰ αἴτια ἀνατρέχει ταύτης καὶ ἐπεξεργάζεται δι᾽ ὅλης τῆς ποιήσεως τὰ κατ᾽ αὐτήν. 
Aristotle is the ultimate source; cf, Poetics, ch. VII, 3; XXIII, 3. 

3 Cf. Porphyry on A 51, where the defence of Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite 
is set forth: εὐπρεπῆ βουλόμενος περιθεῖναι αὐτῇ (“Hpa) τὴν αἰτίαν τῆς ὀργῆς 
ὁ ποιητὴς καὶ οὐχ ἣν ὁ μῦθος ἀναπλάττει κτλ. 

4For the same word, κύριος, cf. Arist. Rhet. II, ch. 24, 1401 Ὁ 35: 
ἄλλος (τόπος) παρὰ τὴν ἔλλειψιν τοῦ πότε καὶ πῶς, οἷον ὅτι δικαίως ᾿Αλέξανδρος ἔλαβε 
τὴν Ἑλένην: αἵρεσις γὰρ αὕτη ἐδόθη παρὰ τοῦ πατρός. ... οὐ γὰρ ἀεὶ ἴσως, ἀλλὰ τὸ 
πρῶτον. καὶ γὰρ ὁ πατὴρ μέχρι τούτου κύριος. Aristotle may have had reference 
to an ᾿Αλεξάνδρου ἐγκώμιον that was probably composed by Poly- 
crates, Isocrates’ rival. 


408 WALTER A. MONTGOMERY. 


reviled him for this very reason.’ Further, it is improbable that 
Alexander could have managed the abduction in so leisurely 
a manner, as to carry off not only Helen, but many household 
goods, and, strangest of all, Helen’s handmaid, the aged and in- 
firm Aethra, the mother of her former abductor, Theseus.” 

Most conclusive of all, Helen’s father and brothers, alone of the 
Achaean chieftains, took no part in the expedition. It was for 
the purpose of anticipating criticism on this point that Homer 
represented Helen as wondering where her brothers were.* Even 
granting that they had originally accompanied the expedition, 
why did they delay ten years* in making preparations for it? 

Agamemnon’s ambition and power placed him at the head of 
the expedition.” He was incited by Menelaus’ reproaches for 
having allowed Alexander to win Helen’s hand; and he, in turn, 
used as arguments to the other chieftains the rich booty to be 
obtained in Asia, and the aid his Asiatic kinsmen would render 
the expedition.° A formal demand was made upon Priam for the 


1 Porphyry on I 16-49 shows that the justice of the abusive terms had 
been extensively discussed: λοιδόρου yap πάθος τὸ μετὰ ἐννέα ἔτη εἰς τοιαύτας 
λοιδορίας ἐκπίπτειν, ... νῦν δὲ διὰ τί ταῦτα προφέρει ; οὐ γὰρ δὴ ὥσπερ “Ὅμηρος 
πρώτην μάχην ταύτην ὑφίσταται ἐν ποιῆσει, καὶ ταῖς ἀληθείαις πρώτῃ ἦν, ἵνα λόγον 
ἔχῃ ὁ τοῦ “Ἕκτορος ὀνειδισμός, εἰ μὴ λοίδορον ἄρα ἐπιδεῖξαι βούλεται καὶ ὀργίλον 
ἄλλως τὸν “Ἕκτορα. Further on in Oration XI, Dio, using Aristotle’s λύσις 
ἐκ τοῦ καιροῦ, accepts the scene as an actual occurrence. 

3 This also was a fruitful theme for disputation. Cf, Porphyry on I'144: 
ἀδύνατόν φασι τὴν Αἴθραν ἔτι ζῆν καὶ ἀμφιπόλου τάξιν ἔχειν κτλ. 

3’ Porphyry’s long note on I 236 shows this point to have provoked 
probably a greater amount of discussion than any other single one: διὰ τί τὴν 
Ἑλένην πεποίηκεν ἀγνοοῦσαν περὶ τῶν ἀδελφῶν ὅτι ov παρῆσαν, δεκαετοὺῦς τοῦ 
πολέμου ὄντος καὶ αἰχμαλώτων πολλῶν γενομένων ; ἄλογον γάρ. ἔτι δὲ καὶ εἰ ἠγνόει, 
ἀλλ᾽ οὐκ ἦν ἀναγκαῖον μνησθῆναι τούτων, οὐκὲ ρωτηθεῖσαν . . . περὶ αὐτῶν" οὐδὲ γὰρ 
πρὸς τὴν ποίησιν πρὸ ἔργου ἦν ἡ τούτων μνήμη. Several λύσεις are ascribed to 
Aristotle... λέγει δὲ Ἡρακλείδης ὅτι ἄλογον ἦν ὄντως τοῦτο εἰ, διατελεσάντων ἐν TT 
Τροίᾳ πάντων “Ἑλλήνων ἐννέα ἔτη μηδὲν περὶ τῶν ἀδελφῶν ἔσχεν Ἑλένη λέγειν. ... 
δῆλον οὖν ὅτι προοικονομεῖ ὁ ποιητὴς βουλόμενος εἰπεῖν τὴν ἀφάνειαν αὐτῶν. 

*Cf. Porphyry on Helen’s ἐεεκοστὸν ἔτος (Ὡ 765). It was made the 
basis of a legend, entirely unknown to Homer, of a former expedition of 
the Greeks against Troy, when they landed by mistake in Mysia, and had 
to return to Greece to re-assemble their forces. 

5 Cf. Thucydides, ΒΚ. I, ch. 9: ᾿Αγαμέμνων τέ μοι δοκεῖ τῶν τότε δυνάμει 
προύχων καὶ ov τοσοῦτον τοῖς Τυνδάρεω ὅρκοις κατειλημμένους τοὺς Ἑλένης μνηστῆρας 
ἄγων τὸν στόλον ἀγεῖραι. 

5 For the Asiatic origin of the Atridae, cf. Thucydides, Book I, ch. 9. 


ORATION XI OF DIO CHRYSOSTOMUS. 499 


surrender of Helen—a demand which the Trojans, conscious of 
innocence in obtaining her, indignantly refused. Otherwise, who 
of them would have submitted to the woes thus imminent, when 
they could have saved the city and themselves by surrendering 
Helen?’ 

5. The Achaeans were repulsed on their first attempt to land. 
Homer admits that Protesilaus was killed, and his ship burned ;” 
but the losses of the Achaeans were far more serious than this. 
They returned under cover of night, and, constructing a camp at 
the ships, fortified it with a wall... They occupied no territory 
besides their camp, as is proved by two facts, which Homer 
mentions: Troilus, a mere boy, was in the habit of running for 
exercise so far from the city as to be ambushed by Achilles; and 
the Achaeans cultivated the Chersonese, and brought wine from 
Lemnos.‘ Their situation grew more desperate, day by day,— 
a fact which not even Homer could conceal. The successes of 
the Trojans at this period are set forth with much truth, though 
unwillingly. It is when Homer comes to flatter’ the Achaeans 
that he is plainly guilty of falsehood. The ἀριστεῖαι of the 
Achaeans are all fruitless, and are full of the most absurd and 
even impious inventions. 

6. It was thenceforth impossible that men so decisively beaten 


1 Both argument and language are Herodotean ; cf. Bk. II, ch. 120. 

2Cf. Porphyry, Schol. to O 7o1 ff.: ἐζήτηται διὰ ποίαν αἰτίαν μόνην τὴν 
Πρωτεσιλάου παρέδωκε ναῦν καιομένην. ῥητέον οὖν ὅτι ydéoOn ὁ Ὅμηρος εἰπεῖν 
ἐμπρῆσαί τινα τῶν ζώντων, μήπως ἀνανδρίαν αὐτοῦ τις δόξῃ καταγινώσκειν. ... 
εὐπρεπῶς ἐπὶ τὴν τοιαύτην ναῦν ἤγαγε τὸν “Ἕκτορα, ἧς οὔτε τὸν ἡγεμόνα μέμψασθαι 
ἐνῆν μὴ κωλύσαντα τὴν οἰκείαν ναῦν ἐμπιπραμένην. 

8 Cf. for this tradition that the wall was made necessary by defeat, 
Thucydides, Bk. I,ch. 11. Cf. also Porphyry on M το and 25, whose general 
idea is identical with Aristotle’s (see Strabo, 13, 1, 36), viz. that this wall 
was a pure invention of Homer. Cf. also Porphyry on K 194, where is 
set forth Aristotle’s ἀπορία as to why the Achaean council was not held 
inside the wall,—if any such wall existed. 

*Cf. Thucydides, Bk. I, ch. 11. 

5 For this as a principle of composition, cf. Porphyry on A 1: ζητοῦσι 
διὰ τί ἀπὸ τῆς μήνιδος ἤρξατο κτλ. ... ἵνα τὰ ἐγκώμια TOV “Ἑλλήνων πιθανώτερα 
ποιήσῃ. ἐπεὶ δὲ ἔμελλε νικῶντας ἀποφαίνειν τοὺς “Ελληνας, εἰκότως οὐ κατατρέχει, 
ἀξιοπιστότερον ἐκ τοῦ μὴ πάντα χαρίζεσθαι τῷ ἐκείνων ἐπαίνῳ. So everywhere 
throughout the ἀριστεῖαι, Cf. Porphyry on E7 and 20, where Zoilos is 
quoted as chiding Homer for having portrayed certain details λίαν γελοίως. 


410 WALTER A. MONTGOMERY. 


should turn back the tide of fortune.’ The strength of the Myr- 
midons alone—granting them to have hitherto held aloof from 
war—was not adequate to accomplish this, and it is incredible that 
the mere shouting of the single individual Achilles should have 
done so.? Often must he have engaged in the fight before—else 
how could he have had any renown at all?—and yet nothing 
remarkable is recorded of him. The true story of his combat 
with Hector is exactly the reverse of the Homeric version. How 
could Achilles have been so ἀνόητος as to send Patroclus forth 
to fight, bidding him to avoid Hector, as if one could choose his 
adversary ina battle?* Yet it was to this one, known to be Hec- 
tor’s inferior, that Achilles entrusted his armor and steeds. How 
is it possible that Patroclus could have worn the armor, and yet 
been unable to wield the spear?* Furthermore, Achilles himself 
does not go, as Homer is careful to emphasize, because of a cer- 
tain prophecy to the effect that he would fall. This is nothing 
less than a direct accusation of cowardice. The prophecy is 
deficient, also, in that, though coming through his mother,’ it told 
him nothing of the fate which awaited Patroclus. And yet Homer 
says he loved Patroclus as himself, and on his death, no longer 
cared to live. Ina word, this whole account of Patroclus is full 
of inconsistencies. Patroclus is manifestly a supposititious ° 


1Cf. Porphyry on O 56-77: ... παραμυθεῖται τὸν ἀκροατὴν... ὅτι οἱ τὰ 
τοιαῦτα πράξαντες (οἱ Τρῶες) κρατηθήσονταί ποτε. 

3 (ἢ. Porphyry on Σ 230: ἀπίθανόν ὠασι καὶ ἄμετρον τὸ τῆς ὑπερβολῆς. Cf. 
also Porphyry on X 205: πῶς γὰρ (φησὶ Μεγακλείδης) τοσαύτας μυριάδας νεύματι 
᾿Αχιλλεὺς ἀπέστρεφεν; Cf. also Schol. A (Dindorf) to = 217. 

3 Cf, Porphyry on = 22 (Achilles’ grief at the tidings of Patroclus’ death) : 
. . + Ζωΐλος δέ φησιν ἄτοπον νῦν εἰδέναι τὸν ᾿Αχιλλέα" προειδέναι τε yap ἐχρῆν ὅτι 
κοινοὶ οἱ πολεμικοὶ κίνδυνοι, τόν τε θάνατον οὐκ ἐχρῆν δεινὸν ὑπολαμβάνειν. 

4 ΓΕ, Porphyry on II 140: διὰ τί οὖν μόνον τὸ Ἰ]Πηλιωτικὸν αὑτῳ ἀναρμυστεῖ δόρυ, 
τῶν ἄλλων ἁρμοσάντων ὅπλων; Μεγακλείδης ἐν δευτέρῳ περὶ 'Ομήρου προοικονο- 
μεῖσθαί φησιν “Ὅμηρον τὴν ὁπλοποιίαν, κτλ. 

5 Cf. Schol. A (Dindorf) to Σ 10, 11: πῶς δὲ, φασὶ, τοῦτο πεπυσμένος παρὰ τῆς 
μητρὸς ἔπεμπε τὸν Πάτροκλον εἰς τὸν πόλεμον ; 

6 While it is nowhere distinctly enunciated, there are adumbrations of 
this in the immense mass of adverse criticism which is known to have been 
directed against 2 and X. In the scholia on these books the names of 
Megaclides and Crates are especially prominent. Cf. Porphyry on T 
154: ὅτι δὲ ἐκ TOV ὅπλων ἐνῆν πλανηθῆναι τοὺς ἀπὸ τῶν ὅπλων σημαινομένους 
ἕκαστον, δηλοῖ τὰ ἐπὶ τοῦ ἸΠΤατρόκλου͵ ὃς ἐνδύσασθαι τὰ ᾿Αχιλλέως ὅπλα ἐδεήθη, κτλ. 
οὕτως οὐκ ἦν τὸν ἀπὸ τῶν ὅπλων τινὰ δοξάζοντα ἤδη καὶ ὄντως γινώσκειν αὐτόν. Cf. 


ORATION XI OF DIO CHRYSOSTOMUS. 411 


personage—imé8Anros—invented by Homer merely to rob 
Hector of the glory of having slain the mighty Achilles himself. 

7. The details of the combat, as given by Homer, are incredible. 
Achilles, single-handed, checks the Trojans, while all the rest of 
the Achaeans look on, as if at a theatrical performance. Now he 
fights with the river, and though well-nigh exhausted,’ is not con- 
quered ; now he impiously threatens Apollo, and pursues him* 
in order to punish him for favoring the Trojans. Though called 
the swiftest of mortals, he yet cannot overtake Hector,‘ who, in 
turn, acts most unreasonably, refusing to heed his parents’ prayers 
that he should enter the city, and then, stricken with panic fear, 
fleeing around 11. Athena comes forth from the wall in the like- 
ness of Deiphobus, deceives Hector, and steals his spear.® In 
short the entire narrative is like that of absurd dreams.’ 


also Porphyry on A 611: διὰ τί τὸν Πάτροκλον ὁ ᾿Αχιλλεὺς πέμπει; ῥητέον οὖν 
ὅτι κατ᾽ οἰκονομίαν. ... ὥστε προῳκονόμησε τοῦτο ὁ ποιητὴς οὕτως, ἵνα ᾿Αχιλλέα 
δείξῃ μετ᾽ εὐλόγου προφάσεως εἰς τὸν πόλεμον ἐξάγοντα τὸν Πάτροκλον. Cf. Ῥοτ- 
phyry on O 56-77 (prophecy of Zeus athetized by Zenodotus): φασὶ δὲ καὶ 
ore 6 ΓΜαλλώτης] Ζ. τὰ ἐκ τοῦ Πάτροκλον... “Ἑκτωρ... ἕως τοῦ λισσομένη... 
"A χιλλέα ἘἙϊὐριπιδείῳ λέγει ἐοικέναι προλόγῳ, ἀφελῶς προαχθέντα καὶ εἰς οὐδὲν 
δέον ἀφηγηματικῶς. Cf. Porphyry on Σ 192: ζητεῖται διὰ τί τὰ ἸΤατρόκλου (ὅπλα) 
οὗ λαμβάνει, εἰ καὶ τὰ αὐτοῦ ἐκείνῳ ἥρμοσεν. τινὲς, ἡνίοχον λέγοντες εἶναι τὸν 
Πάτροκλον, φασὶ μὴ ἔχειν αὐτὸν ὅπλα... .. Κράτης, ὅτι τὰ ἸΤατρόκλου Αὐτομέδων 
εἶχεν, ὅπως ἰσωθῇ τὸ εἶδος καὶ δόξωσιν εἶναι ὁ μὲν ᾿Α χιλλεὺς ὁ δὲ ἸΤάτροκλος. 

1Cf. Porphyry on Χ 36: ἄξιον ζητήσεως, πῶς ἀπόντος ᾿Αχιλλέως μηδεὶς πολεμεῖ 
Ἕκτορι... Μεγακλείδης δέ φησι ταῦτα πάντα πλάσματα εἶναι. Cf. also Schol. 
Β (Dindorf) to ® 269: ὅλον τὸ πεδίον πέλαγος γεγενημένον ὑπὸ τοῦ ποταμοῦ 
ἔδειξεν ὥστε καὶ τοὺς ὥμους ἐπικλύζειν τοῦ ᾿Αχιλλέως - καὶ πρὸς μὲν ἀλήθειαν ταῦτα 
ov πιθανά---τί γὰρ ἐπράττετο περὶ τοὺς ἄλλους στρατιώτας ; ἀπίθανον γὰρ μόνον τὸν 
᾿Αχιλλέα ὑπὸ τοῦ ποταμοῦ ταῦτα πάσχειν---ὡς δὲ ἐν ποιήσει παράδεκτα. 

2Cf. Porphyry on X 165: καί φασιν οἱ μὲν ἐπίτηδες αὐτὸν ὑπὸ τοῦ ποιητοῦ 
καταπεπονῆσθαι πολλῷ πόνῳ πρότερον, ἵν᾽ ὥσπερ ἐν θεάτρῳ νῦν μείζονα κινήσῃ πάθη 
κτλ, 


3 Thought and language are close imitations of Plato; cf. the Republic, 
III, 391 A. 


4Cf. Porphyry on X 165: πῶς δὲ, φασὶν, ὁ ποδωκίστατος πάντων Ov καταλαμβάνει 
τὸν Ἕκτορα; ... πρόχειρον μὲν οὖν τὸ λέγειν ὅτι ὁ μὲν ᾿Αχιλλεὺς ἄριστός ἐστι͵ πλὴν 
κέκμηκεν ὑπὸ Ξάνθου, κτλ. 

5 Cf. Scholium A (Dindorf) to X 141, where (anonymous) dissatisfaction 
is expressed at the inconsistency of his heroic firmness in vss. 92-97 with 
his thought of surrender and final flight. 

6 Cf. Porphyry on X 231: ἄτοπόν φασι ϑεὸν οὖσαν πλανᾶν τὸν "Extopa, 

7These ἀπορήματα all go back ultimately to Aristotle’s distinction 
between the canons of artistic construction for epic and those fer dramatic 


412 WALTER A. MONTGOMERY. 


Achilles could not have conquered Hector, because, by Homer’s 
own showing, he could have had none of the virtues claimed for him. 
Besides being senseless (ἀνόητος), impious (ἀσεβής), and even 
without his boasted speed of foot—as has already been shown— 
he was also inconsistent (ἀνώμαλος) in his excessive grief; 
irascible (ὀργίλος);" and even cowardly (δειλός) ὃ 

A brief portion of Oration XI is concerned with extra-Homeric 
events. As this portion is beyond the scope of this paper, it is 
sufficient to say that Dio concludes that these also prove the failure 
of the Trojan expedition. The Achaeans selected the winter 
season for their return voyage; they returned singly, or in small 
groups; and almost every one encountered either unfaithfulness 
in wife or disloyalty in subjects. The Trojans, on the contrary, 
were able to send forth the well-known expeditions of Aeneas 
and Helenus,—a sure sign of increase in numbers and wealth. 


WALTER A. MONTGOMERY. 


poetry. Cf, the Poetics, ch. XXIV, 1460 a 14 ff.: μᾶλλον δ᾽ ἐνδέχεται Ev TH 
ἐποποιίᾳ TO ἄλογον... διὰ TO μὴ ὁρᾶν εἰς τὸν πράττοντα. ἐπεὶ τὰ περὶ τὴν “Ἕκτορος 
δίωξιν, ἐπὶ σκηνῆς ὄντα, γελοῖα ἂν φανείη" οἱ μέν, ἑστῶτες καὶ ov διώκοντες, ὁ dé, 
ἀνανεύων. Cf. also ch. XXV, τ46ο Ὁ 26 ff. The criticisms of the combat 
on the side of the supernatural are probably from Megaclides, the pupil 
of Aristotle and elaborator of some of his principles of criticism. 

1 Cf. Porphyry on Σ 98. 

Ξ Cf. Arist. Rhet. Bk. II, 3, 1380 b, 94. Cf. also the Poetics, ch. XV, 8, 
1454 b, 12-15, where Achilles, as delineated by Homer, is taken as the type. 

3 For the view that his inactivity was due to cowardice, cf. Porphyry on 
A 1 and H 229; and see Schol. B (Dind.) on H 228. Cf. especially Schol. 
A (Dind.) on X 188: σημειῶδες ὅτι μόνος “Ὅμηρός φησι μονομαχῆσαι τὸν “Ἕκτορα, 
οἱ δὲ λοιποὶ πάντες ἐνεδρευθῆναι ὑπὸ ᾿Αχιλλέως. 

Doubt as to Achilles’ pre-eminence is as old as Xenophanes. Plato, 
Zoilos, Antisthenes, Crates, and Persaeus (cf. Porphyry on A 62) especially 
contributed to it, Aristotle, in Bks. II and III of the Rhetoric, has many 
references to Achilles that sound as if taken from sophistical ψόγοι. 


THE USE OF ATQUE AND ACIN SILVER LATIN. 


As early as 1563, Gabrielle Faerno,' in a note to Cic. pro Flacc. 
3, commented upon the difference in the use of afgue and ac. 
Two centuries later Burmann and Drakenborch again took up 
the discussion, and from that time to the present, treatise after 
treatise has appeared. It is now generally agreed that ac is only 
a shortened form of afgue,’ and that the a of ac is short.* 

As ac isa shortened form of afgue, it follows, of course, that 
atgue is the older form, and that it was only by degrees that ac 
secured a firm foot-hold in the language. The usage of Plautus 
and of Terence shows its growth: Plaut. (Goetz and Schoell) in 
four plays, containing 5000 lines, uses atgue 211 times (Amph., 
51, Capt., 37, M. gl., 51, Ps., 72), while ac is used only seven times 
(Am. 443, 755; Capt. 636; M. gl. 619, 997, 1252; Ps. 558); Ter., 
on the other hand, uses afgue 210 times and ac 66 times.* From 
this starting-point ac became more and more widely used, until, 
during the Silver Age, it occurs nearly twice as often as atgue (cf. 
p- 414,1). In the classic period the use of ac, as is well known, 
was restricted.® 

A number of instances of ac before a vowel are to be found in 
some of the Christian writers.° In Elegiac poetry the use of ac was 
restricted to certain formulae, as szmu/ ac.’ Landgraf (I. c.) says 
that Cicero uses ac before c in five passages (all before the syl- 


1Cf, Zumpt, Lat. Gram.° p. 263 (Schmidt’s transl.). 

2Cf, Stolz, Formenlehre,? §§ 46 and 49; Lindsay, Lat. Lang. p. 598, 
Chap. 10, §2; Georges, Lex. ἃ. lat. Wortf., 5. v. 

3 Luc. Mueller, De Re Metr.? p. 426, however, regards the ὦ as long, 

#Cf. Elmer, Am. Journ. Phil., VIII, p. 459. 

5’ Landgraf, note 408 to Reisig’s Vorles. iiber lat. Spr., cites but five 
examples of ac before a vowel; moreover, two of these are extremely 
doubtful. In Plin. N. H. XVI, 266 Mayhoff reads au? alio; in Gell. τό, 8, 
16 Hertz has atgue. Georges, Lex. d. lat. Wortf., cites Liv. 21, 24,8 and 
42, 13, 3—both incorrectly for 41, 24, 18 and 42, 10, 3—but even here the 
latest editions eliminate ac. 

6 Cf. Luc. Mueller, De Re Metr.® pp. 426 and 502, 

7™Cf. Haupt, Observ. Crit. p. 355 and Schulze, Rom. Eleg.® p. 283. 


414 EMORY 8. LEASE. 


lable con-) and once before g. C. F. W. Mueller, vol. II, 1, p. cii, 
however, says: “Ciceronem ac ante ¢, g, g posuisse non credo.” 
Caesar, according to Kraner and Doberenz (note on B. G. 1, 44, 
3), uses ac before ¢ only three times, before g but once. 

The object of the present investigation is to determine the 
exact use, range, and sphere of these two particles in Silver 
Latin, and, with this object in view, nine of the leading writers 
of prose and nine of poetry were examined, the latest Teubner 
text being used in each case and the text variants noted.’ 

The general usage of prose as contrasted with that of poetry 
may be seen from the following table: 








PROSE, POETRY. 

Atque. Ac. Atque. Ac. 
ViellusPatercsnss5 58 122 Phaedrusy.wajctae Io 2 
Δ ΑΙ Marcy icrntereiaere 155 302 DENECA alee ele 46 109 
SOMEGA oi ka crs vests 119 728 PEFSIGS': cae sions 9 6 
Petronusi enters 61 67 AGWGATA ae eres lets Malays 82 57 
Plains imal. |sarejaietsote 529 932 Walsiilacenapiecss'e 145 79 
Quintilian) joven. 322 421 Sil pal se esate 403 315 
DACIUS fi elajatels<ieist ete 312 893 DEACIUSH tole τ μὲν 222 107 
Blan comin ar evs sieiets 74 172 Martial cme eels sete 59 I 
SMetOnIUS τὐνν ἐπε ιτὴν 217 627 (Lean aired eats 156 59 
Abroy ΠΥ eA 1847 4264 Miotal cicioheevelste 1132 735 


In the Silver Age atgue occurs 2979 times = 37.3%}; ac, 4999 times = 
62.7%. 


1. The figures just given show that during the Silver Age ac 
occurs about twice as often as afgue. 

2. Atgue, however, is the favorite form in poetry (60.6%), a fact 
which is possibly due to metrical convenience, since it shows the 
obvious gain of a short syllable. On the other hand, the wider 
use of ac by the writers of prose (69.8%) may have been influenced 
by the greater frequency, in writers of this age, of mec, the corres- 
ponding form of zegue. The preponderance of ac in prose is all 
the more striking in view of the fact that, while afgue may be 
used before either vowels or consonants, a¢ is not found before 
vowels or gutturals. 

Seneca is the only poet that shows a smaller number of occur- 
rences of afgue (29.7%) than of ac (70.3%). This is doubtless to be 


ΤῸ is unfortunate that a complete apparatus criticus for every writer 
of the Silver Age is not available. In an investigation of this sort, the 
knowledge of all variations in text tradition is an obvious necessity. 


THE USE OF ATQUE AND AC IN SILVER LATIN. 415 


explained by his large employment of iambic rhythm, which 
is closely allied to prose. 

3. Several prose writers show a marked preference for the use 
of ac.' No prose writer of this period shows more examples of 
atgue than of ac. 

4. The two earliest prose writers in Silver Latin, Velleius and 
Valerius Maximus show about the same percentage for these two 
particles, but in Seneca the break occurs with the use of atgue 
14% to ac 86%. 

5. Of all the writers of poetry, Martial was most fond of atgue, 
using ac only once (9, 22,15), atgue 59 times. In the other eight 
poets investigated, the opposite extreme occurs in Seneca, ac 
70.3%, followed by Silius Italicus, ac 43.9%, and Lucan, ac 414%.? 

Prose usage presents some interesting contrasts from the point 
of view of the letter which follows. Thus afgue occurs before 6 
twice, 2 6, 077, ¢ 85, P70, ὦ 45, a 239, ὁ 269, and 2 548 times. 
In poetry atgue occurs before g twice (Stat. and Mart.), 
2 (cons.) twice (Mart.), 6 4 times (Stat. Mart. Juv. twice), 
nm 6 (Val. Flacc. Sil. Stat. Mart. Juv. twice), « ΟἹ times and e 96 
times. Phaedrus does not use a/gue before e and 2, nor Persius 
before 2 and 9. Of the consonants, a/gue is most frequently found 
before s (25 times), 72 (20), @ (13), of the vowels, before z (284), 
ὦ (254), and o (133 times). 

In prose ac occurs least often before g (4 times), ¢ (49 times; 
Plin. mai. alone has 30-35 examples, cf. p. 422 f.).2. Acis found 
most frequently before 2 (698), s (685), m (443), 2 (413), and d 
(409 times). 

In poetry ac occurs least often before g (once), ¢ (3), ὁ (3 times), 
and most frequently before s (121), (112), #(84),and mm (83 times). 
The usage of poetry shows a practical agreement with that of 
prose in that ac is most frequently used before the same three 
consonants 2), s and m. 

The attitude of the writers of the Silver Age toward atgue 
before vowels and consonants may be seen from the fact that 


1 4c ranges from 86% in Seneca, 74.3% in Suetonius, 74.1% in Tacitus, 
to 56.7% in Quintilian and 52.3% in Petronius. 

3 Sen., atgue 46,ac 109; Sil. Ital., atgue 403, ac 315; Lucan, atgue 82, ac 57; 
Persius, atgue 9,ac6; Val. Flacc., atgue 145,a¢ 79; Stat., afgue 222, ac 1073 
Juv., afgue 156, ac 59; Phaedr., atgue 10, ac 2. 

3 For its use before vowels, cf. p. 421, b. 


416 EMORY B. LEASE. 


they use afgue 2319 times before vowels and only 662 times be- 
fore consonants. In other words, they used afgue about three 
and one-half times as often before a vowel as before a consonant. 
The prose usage should also be contrasted with the usage of 
poetry: in prose, atgue before consonants occurs 498 times (27%), 
before vowels (including 1) 1349 times (73%);* in poetry, on the 
other hand, atgue before consonants is found 164 times (14%), 
before vowels (including %) 970 times (86%). Hence atgue is 
used before consonants twice as often in prose as in poetry. 

The following is a tabular exhibit of the frequency of atgue 
before vowels as compared with its use before consonants : 


PROSE, POETRY. 
Vowels. Consonants. Vowels. Consonants, 
Velleius Paterculus 51 7) DPRACERUB)s 1c areos 10 ο 
Valerius Maximus. 130 25, Jmeneed scticue cere 38 8 
SENECA stoic. 6 < 111 SP OLSiU Sem sete ats 5-: 8 I 
Petronius-\.5 712 +- 54 “απ ἐὸν πο one ele ar: 8 
Plinius maior .... 300 229 © ©WValerius Flaccus.. 118 27 
Quintilian ἐπ τ τινος 225 97 5:18 Italicus..... 389 12 
WACKLUS Ee ier sis πον 246 660: CStatinss stots ss 202 20 
Plinius minor..... 72 2) Martial ΠῈΣ ἜΞΩ 31 28 
Suetonius........- 160 δ νεὸς ἐν δε oy 100 60 


Total : vowels, 2319; consonants, 662. 


From this table it will be seen that in prose afgue occurs 


least frequently before consonants in Plin. min. (2.7%), Seneca 
(6.7%), and Petronius (11.5%), and most often in Plin. mai. (43.3%), 
Quintilian (30.1%), and Suetonius (26.3%); in poetry, atgue before 
consonants varies from no occurrence in Phaedrus, 3% in Silius 
Italicus and 9% in Statius to 18.6% in Valerius Flaccus, 37.5% in 
Juvenal, and 47.5% in Martial. 

The detailed usage of atgue and ac before the various letters is 
as follows :? 

A. Afgue and ac before consonants : 


1This is a marked departure from the usage of Sallust, who uses afgue 
184 times before consonants and 186 times before vowels. Cf. Alfred 
Kunze’s Sallustiana, 1892, a summary of which is found in Archiv f. lat, 
Lex. VIII, p. 152. 

*For the usage of Cicero, Caesar, Sallust and Livy cf. P. Stamm, de 
und atgue vor consonanten, Jahrb. f, phil. ἃ. paed. 137 (1888), pp. 171 ff. 
and for Curtius, ibid. pp. 711 f. 


THE USE OF ATQUE AND AC IN SILVER LATIN. 417 


b: prose, atgue 2, ac 63; poetry, atgue 4, ac 3 times. Several 
writers never use afgue:' Velleius (1), Valerius Maximus (5), 
Seneca, prose (18), Petronius (1), Quintilian (6), Suetonius (5), 
while Plinius mai. uses afgue once, ac 12 times, Tacitus afgue τ, 
ac15times. Afgue does not occur in poetry before Statius (1); 
elsewhere, Martial (1) and Juvenal (2); ac only in Seneca, Lucan 
and Silius Italicus, once in each author. 

δ: prose, atgue 85, ac 49; poetry, atgue 15, ac 3 times. Plinius 
mai. takes a conspicuous position among all Latin authors from 
the large number of times that he uses ac before ¢ (cf. p. 422 f.). 
Quintilian uses ac before ¢ twice, atgue 19 times, the former usage, 
as in Cicero, occurring before the syllable con- (cf. p. 422, a). 

d: Here the contrast is marked; prose, atgue 45, ac 409; 
poetry, atgue 13, ac 51 times. Valerius Maximus, Seneca (prose 
and poetry), Petronius, Plinius mai., Phaedrus and Persius never 
use aigue. 

J: prose, atgue 39, ac 273; poetry, a/gue 12, ac 45 times. 
Velleius uses ac 12 times, Plinius min. twice, Seneca (poetry) 7 
times, never afgue. Seneca in his prose uses atgue once, ac 12 
times; Quintilian, atgue 3, ac 28 times, and Tacitus atgue 7, ac 
53 times. 

£: prose, atgue 6, ac 4; poetry, atgue 2, ac once.’ 

2 (conson.): prose, atgue 11 (15%), ac 62(85%); poetry, atgue 2 
(8%), ac 23(92%). Atgue before z (conson.) occurs only in Martial. 
Tacitus uses atgue once, ac 16 times; Seneca (prose) and Suetonius 
each use ac Io times, a¢gue never; Quintilian uses atgue before 
Zetunam, 1, 4,5, 2e%unt, 2, 25, 1, zetunum, 2, 8,9, but has ac zezunz, 
ΤῸ; 2.17. 

Δ: prose, aigue 36 (11.3%), ac 281 (88.7%); poetry, atgue 16 
(25.8%), ac 46 (74.2%). In prose, then, ac before ὦ is far more 
common than σέο; atgue, on the other hand, is used more than 
twice as often in poetry as in prose. The following authors never 
use atgue:* Velleius (6), Plinius min. (6), Lucan (3), Silius 


1The number of occurrences of ac is placed in parentheses after the 
name of each author. 

2 Neue, Formenlehre’, II, p. 955, cites 7 passages from Cicero and 4 from 
Caesar. For occurrences in the Silver Age, see p. 423. 

3 The same plan of placing the number of occurrences of ac in parenthe- 
ses after the name of each author is followed in the discussion of each 
letter. 


27 


418 EMORY B. LEASE. 


Italicus (28). Seneca (prose) uses atfgue only once, ac 51 times, in 
his poetry atgue but once, ac 7 times. Tacitus’ preference is no less 
clearly marked: atgue but 3 times, ac 74 times. Juvenal and 
Martial, however, use atgue before ὦ more frequently than ac: 
Juvenal, atgue 8 times, ac twice, Martial, atgue 4 times, ac never. 
In Petronius we find atgue used 3 times, ac twice. The ratio in 
Plinius mai. is as 19:71, in Quintilian, 5:28, in Suetonius, 3:28, and 
in Persius, 1:7. 

72: prose, atgue 31 (6.5%), ac 443 (93.5%); poetry, atgue 20 
(19%), ac 83 (81%). In poetry atgue is used about three times as 
often asin prose. The following authors never use a/gue: Velleius 
(8), Petronius (18), Plinius min. (10), and Silius Italicus (32). 
Seneca (prose) shows a marked fondness for ac before m, using 
it 90 times, while we find afgue only 3 times. This is also true in 
the case of Tacitus who uses ac 103 times, atgue but twice. 
Plinius mai. uses afgue 15 times, ac 96 times; in Quintilian the 
figures are 8:36, in Suetonius, 2:61, in Valerius Flaccus, 7:9, in 
Statius, 3:13, and in Juvenal, 4:11. 

m: prose, atgue 37 (8.2%), ac 413 (91.8%); poetry, atgue 6 
(8.7%), ac 63 (91.3%). The usage of poetry and that of prose 
nearly balance each other. The following authors never use 
atgue: Velleius (7), Petronius (15), Plinius min. (32), Suetonius 
(97), Seneca, in poetry (7), Persius (1), Lucan (9); the following 
use it but once: Seneca, in prose (31), Tacitus (79), Valerius 
Flaccus (9), Silius Italicus (31). The fact that Quintilian uses 
atque 4 times, ac 29 times, Tacitus afgue once, ac 79 times, and 
Suetonius afgue never, ac 97 times, indicates the marked prefer- 
ence for the use of ac before z which is noticeable in all the writers 
of the Silver Age. 

2: Here the contrast is again marked: prose, a/gue 70 (9.1%), 
ac 698 (90.9%); poetry, atgue 8 (6.7%), ac 112 (93.3%). Both 
prose and poetry decidedly prefer the use of acbefore 2. This 
preference is further emphasized by the fact that the following 
authors never use afgue, while they employ ac with great fre- 
quency as the figures in parentheses indicate: Valerius Maximus 
(47), Seneca, in prose (100), in poetry (12), Petronius (9), Plinius 
min. (39), and Silius Italicus (47). The ratio of a/gue to ac in 
Plinius mai. is 36:144, in Quintilian, 15:63, in Tacitus, 6:156, in 
Suetonius, 9:119, in Lucan, 1:5, in Valerius Flaccus, 2:11, in 
Statius, 1:27, in} Martial, 1:0 and in Juvenal, 3:10. 


THE USE OF ATQUE AND AC IN SILVER LATIN. 419 


r: prose, atgue 17 (6.6%), ac 240 (93.4%); poetry, atgue 14 
(30.4%), ac 32 (69.6%). In prose therefore, ac is preferred before 7. 
The following writers use only ac, the figures in parentheses 
showing the number of occurrences: Velleius (7), Valerius 
Maximus (14), Seneca, in prose, (43), Plinius min. (9), and Lucan 
(3). Plinius mai. uses afgue 5 times and ac 73 times, Quintilian, 
atque 8, ac 31, Tacitus, afgue once, ac 33, and Silius Italicus, atgue 
3, ac 15 times. The preference for ac is marked in every writer 
of this age except Valerius Flaccus, afgue twice, ac twice, Statius, 
ac once, atgue once, and Juvenal, who reverses the usage, 
employing atgue 6 times and ac 4 times. 

δ: A similar preference for ac occurs with this letter, the excess 
being even greater than with 7; prose, atgue 35 (4.9%), ac 685 
(95.1%); poetry, atgue 25 (17%), ac 121 (83%). Prose writers 
prefer ac to atgue before s in the ratio of 95:5. Afgue is never 
used’ by Velleius (18), Seneca, in prose (117), in poetry (15), 
Petronius (6), Plinius min. (45), and Persius(2). Valerius Maxi- 
mus uses a¢gue but once, ac 31 times; in Plinius mai. the ratio is 
15: 144, in Quintilian, 11: 76, in Tacitus, 1: 132, in Suetonius, 
7:116,in Lucan, 1:8, in Valerius Flaccus, 4: 18, in Silius Italicus, 
2:58, and in Statius, 3:16. Martial and Juvenal are the only 
exceptions to this rule, the former using atgue 7 times, ac but 
once, and the latter a/gue 8 times, ac 3 times. 

z: prose, atgue 41 (11.3%), ac 322 (88.7%); poetry, atgue 12 
(12.5%), ac 84 (87.5%). As with z andy the usage of prose and 
that of poetry almost balance each other, each showing a prefer- 
ence for ac before ὁ Atgue was never used by the following 
writers: Velleius (8), Valerius Maximus (32), Seneca, in prose 
(60), in poetry (15), Petronius (6), Persius (1), Lucan (11), Silius 
Italicus (26). Plinius min. uses afgue once, ac 13 times, Sueto- 
nius, afgue once, ac 39 times, and Statius, a/gue once, ac 12 times. 
“ἔφα before ¢ does not appear in prose before Plinius mai. who 
uses it 17 times, ac 58 times. Following Plinius, Quintilian uses 
atqgue 5 times, ac 25 times, Tacitus afgue 17 times, ac 80 times. 
Aique in poetry appears as early as Seneca who uses it twice, ac 
20 times, and reappears in Valerius Flaccus who uses it 3 times, 
ac 8 times. Here, again, Martial and Juvenal depart from the 
prevailing usage, the former, using only atgue, and but once, 


1The figures for ac are given in parentheses. 


420 EMORY B. LEASE, 


while in the latter author the two almost balance, afgue being 
used 5 times, ac 6 times. 

v: prose, atgue 33 (9.1%), ἂς 328 (90.9%); poetry, atgue 11 
(14.3%), ac 66 (85.7). The preference for ac before v is more 
decided in prose than in poetry. -Atgue was never used by Va- 
lerius Maximus (23), Petronius (4), Phaedrus (2), Statius (12), and 
only once by Velleius (11), Seneca, in prose (56), in poetry (11), 
and Valerius Flaccus (10). Plinius mai. uses atgue g times, ac 
70 times; for Quintilian the proportion is 9:44, for Tacitus, 4:76, 
for Plinius min., 3:9, for Suetonius, 6:35, for Silius Italicus, 2:19 
and for Juvenal, 3:7. Martial alone uses a/gue more frequently 
than ac, though he uses atgue only twice and does not employ ac. 

What was the factor that determined whether a/gue or ac 
should be used? Was it an inherent difference in the significa- 
tion of these two forms or did the consonant which followed settle 
the question? It need hardly besaid that the usage of prose alone 
should be considered and this speaks in no uncertain tones. The 
exact usage of the leading stylists of this age may be gathered 
from the following statements: 

Seneca (prose) never uses atgue before the following conso- 
nants:’ before 4 (18), ad (89), p (100), 7 (43), s (117), ¢ (60).? 
Tacitus, before ὦ, has atgue once, ac 15 times, before 72, atgue twice, 
ac 103 times, before 22, atgue once, ac 79 times, before 2, atgue 6, 
ac 156 times, before 7, atgue once, ac 33 times, before 5, a/gue 
once, ac 132 times. Plinius min. never uses atgue before d (12), 
n (32), (39) and s (45). Velleius before s has only ac, 18 times. 
Valerius Maximus never uses atgue before d@ (44), 2 (47), ἐ (32), 
v (23). Suetonius never has a/gue before consonantal z (10), or 22 
(97). In view of these results and the additional fact that in the prose 
of this period atgue is used 45 times before d, ac 409 times, 36 
times before ὦ, ac 281 times, and that before 22, a/gue occurs in 8.7% 
of the cases, before 2, in 9.1%, before 7, in 6.6%, and before s, in 
only 4.9%, the conclusion seems to be sufficiently clear that the 
choice of afgue or ac was determined by the consonant which 
followed. In the case, however, of monosyllabic conjunctions, 
adverbs, and prepositions, ac alone was used. Adgue non is found 
first in Plinius mai.;* atfgue s¢ occurs in Sen. Ep. 102, 12 (245). 


1 The number of occurrences of ac is given in parentheses. 
2 Before / he uses ac 62 times, atgue once. 
3 Cf. Schmalz, Lat. synt.? p. 340. 


THE USE OF ATQUE AND AC IN SILVER LATIN. 421 


B. a) Atgue before vowels: 

1. Afgue in prose was used most frequently before the vowel 
Z (548 times); before e it occurs 269 times, before a, 239 times, 
before τέ, 130 times and before 0, 77 times. 

2. In poetry also afgue was used most frequently before the 
vowel z (284), then before a (254), 0 (133), 6 (96) and z (91). 

3. Afgue was used by Plinius mai. 59 times before e, 37 of the 
cases occurring before etiam. 

4. In prose, atgue occurs before # 85 times, in poetry, 112 
times.’ 

5. In every prose writer except Plinius min. afgue was used 
most frequently before z. In this writer e leads with 31 instances, 
followed by z with 21. 

6. Plinius min. is the only prose writer who does not use atgue 
before 0, Persius the only poet.’ 

b) Ac before vowels: 

Here but one certain example occurs in Silver Latin: Plinius 
mai. II, §174 has ac ardua with no variants. In XVI, § 226, 
Detlefsen reads ac im, but Mayhoff writes aut with Ὁ. In 
X XIX, §50 again, Detlefsen reads ac una, Mayhoff denarii una. 
In Seneca two bracketed passages occur, N. Q. 2, 31, 1 ac in- 
laesis and Dial. 7, 22, 2 ac amisso. Neue, Formenlehre, II,°* p. 
956, cites Quint. 12, 10, 77 ac oratorem. This is the reading of 
Spalding, but Halm reads zec and Meister, following Haupt, 
omits the conjunction. 

C. Special consideration of ac before c, g and φ: 

The writers of the Silver Age used ac before gutturals much 
more frequently than the writers of the best period,*® but as early 
as Livy we find exceptions to the classical rule. H. J. Mueller‘ 
says that Livy in the first decade uses ac before gutturals 43 


1 4ique occurs only once each in Phaedrus, Persius, and Martial. 

? As 2 and ὁ are both palatal vowels and the ὁ of atgue short, and as Quin- 
tilian IX, 4, 34, in speaking of the ‘‘ vocalium concursus”’ says, ‘‘ minima est 
in duabus brevibus offensio,”” one would expect a/gue to be used more fre- 
quently before z and ¢ than before the guttural vowels oandw. The results 
of my investigation substantiate this theory, for in prose and poetry atgue 
was used 832 times before 7, 365 times before ¢, in all 1197 times, on the 
other hand 210 times before 9 and 221 times before zw, in all 431 times or 
approximately one-third as often. 

SCf. p. 413. 

4Cf. H. J. Mueller, Z. f. d. GW. 1888, XIV, 102 ff. 


422 EMORY B, LEASE. 


times, of which 19 are before the syllable con, and in the other 
books 5 times, all with the same syllable.’ 

1. Ac before c. 

Lucian Mueller, De Re Metr.’ p. 502, cites ac cevet in Juvenal 9, 
40, but Friedlaender, Jahn-Buecheler and Weidner all read ef 
cevet. Seneca has but one example, Dial. 8, 3, 1 ac con-; Quin- 
tilian two, 5, 14, 21" and 10, 1, 48, each before con-; Tacitus five, 
Agr. το, 6 ac caelo, 31,6 ac con-, 40, τὶ ac com-, Hist. 4, 18, 23° 
ac caeco, Ann. 12, 47, 12; Suetonius (Roth) five, Caes. 49 ac 
Curio, Aug. 40 ac comitiis, Cal. 17 ac conchyliz, ib. 50 ac circa, 
Claud. 11 ac centurionibus.* 

Plinius mai. is conspicuous among all writers of Latin literature 
in the number of times that he uses ac before a word beginning 
with c. His works show 17 certain, 13 probable and 5 doubtful 
examples. 

a. The 17 certain examples (without variants) are: II. 101 ac 
Castori; VII. 168 ac ciborum; XI. 220 ac ciborum; XII. 4, 3 ac 
cypiro; XV. 77 ac comitio; XVI. 60 ac colore; 71 ac Cytoriis ; 
76accandida; XVII. 253 accinere; XVIII. 59 ac cicer; XIX. 42 
ac contumacem; XX. 15 ac coxendicum; XXX. 117 ac celerius ; 
XXXV. 5 ac circumferunt; 80 ac curare; XXXVI. 79 ac cepas; 
XXXVII. 4 ac colore. 


1In the 3rd decade, however, Livy uses ac before coz- 3 times, 22, 30, 4; 
38, I13 47, 3; before gl- 22, 12 4; before gr- 27, 17, 10 (M. M.); 28, 
42, 19; before ce/- 26, 27, 16. 

2 Omitted by Neue, Formenlehre, 118, p. 956. 

3In Hist. 4, 81, 23 Halm? reads ac caeco, but in his 4th edition he has 
changed this to at caeco, which is the reading of Meiser in the Baiter- 
Orelli edition. In the two other uncertain passages, Ann. 1, ὃ, 10 Nipper- 
dey reads ac cohortes, Halm‘ aut cohortes, Ann. 11, 4, 3 Nipperdey ac 
causa, Halm4 at causa. 

4As is well known the text of Suetonius is in a deplorable condition. 
Through the kindness of Professors Smith and Howard, of Harvard Uni- 
versity, I am able to give a conspectus of the readings in the above pas- 
sages: Caes. 49 ac V° V! V4 Par. 5801, ad A, at Par. 6116, @ Par. 5801; 
Cal. 17 ac V° Par. 6116, Par. 5801, at A, Par. 5802; Cal. 50 ac V° Par. 
5801, ad A, at Par. 6116, Par. 5802; Claud. 11 ac V° A Par. 6116, Par. 5801, 
Par. 5802. (Here A=Par, 6115 (Memmianus) saec. IX Extr., Par. 6116 
saec. XII, Par. 5801 saec. ὃ, Par. 5802 saec. XIV; V°=Vat. Lat. 1860 5860. 
XIV in.; V1=Vat. Lat. 7310 saec. XIV in.; V4=Vat. Lat. 1904 saec. XI- 
XII, but extending only to p. 120, 14 of Roth’s edition.) 


THE USE OF ATQUE AND AC ΩΝ SILVER LATIN. 423 


b. The probable examples (read by both Detlefsen and May- 
Hom) are; VIII. 223 ac conchylia }\'\X)) 120 ae erbie shut oar 
ac cetera; XIV. 45 ac Corinthum; XV. 10 ac cellis; XVIII. 305 
ac Cerinthi; XXV. 119 ac ceteris; 141 ac contrahit; XXX, 55 
ac cute; XXXIV. 128 ac Cadmeae; 160 ac compescit; XXXV. 
111 ac concinnus; XXXVII. 173 ac contra. 

c. Read by Detlefsen alone: II. 219 ac circumcisura, Ac D ", 
a,rv.; ΧΙ. 222 ac cervorum D’, ad MR, at Mayhoff; XVI. 103 
ac coactae ED, hae Mayhoff; XXVIII. 187 ac Cinere V, Mayhoff 
omits connective; XXXII. 24 ac calcularum BS, ef Mayhoff. 

In Plinius min. Pan. 30, Keil in ed. min. reads ac clementi, but 
in ed. mai. changed the reading to ac detinenti. 

In poetry there are but three examples, all with text variants: 
Seneca Troad. 850 ac carens (ac Both., az), Valerius Flaccus 4, 
411 ac caeci (Saevi V), Statius Theb. 12, 33 ac ceteri (ac P, κέ a). 
In each case ac is read in the latest Teubner text. 

Summary: ac before ¢ in prose: Seneca once, Quintilian twice, 
Tacitus 5 times, Plinius mai. 30-35 times, Suetonius 5 times; in 
poetry: Seneca once, Valerius Flaccus once, and Statius once; 
prose 43-48 times, poetry 3 (?) times. 

2. Ac before g." 

This occurs 4 times in prose, once in poetry: Seneca Ep. 13. 3. 
9 (ac gr-), Plinius mai. II. 135 (ac gelida), XXXIV. 114 (ac ge- 
narum, Detlefsen, Mayhoff e¢ with C), Tacitus Ann. 12, 64, 13 (ac 
Gnaei), and Silius Italicus 10, 363 (ac gelidis). 

3. Ac before g.’ 

Plinius mai. has 4 examples with no text variants, II. 200 (ac 
quinquagies), 206 (ac quicquid), X. 157 (ac quaedam), XXXIII. 
29 (ac quod); in XXV. 31 Detlefsen reads ac quale, but Mayhoff 
aut with ΝΟ. One example occurs in poetry, Valerius Flaccus 
7, 267 (ac quem). 

D. The usage of Tacitus shows some noteworthy phenomena: 

1) Atgue before consonants.* 

While Tacitus uses atgue most frequently in the Annales (41 


Harper’s Lat. Dict. says: ‘* Before g, ac does not occur.” 
‘Before g, ac does not occur,’’ is quoted from Harper’s Lat. Dict, 
3Plinius mai. uses afgue also before g in II. 38, XXII. 95, XX XIII. 46, 
XXXVI. 8. These, with Martial 11, 71, 3, form the only citations of the 
usage from Silver Latin. 
4 Gerber and Greef, lex. Tac,, omit Ann. 3, 16, 4 (before @) and 4, 10, 5. 


424 EMORY B. LEASE. 


times out of 180), in the Historiae he uses it but once 5, 12, 8, 
and in his minor works only 3 times, Agr. 16, 1 in the formula 
“his atque talibus,”’ Dial. 15, 3 and 18, 25. In the following 
table, the preponderance of ac (76%) is noteworthy: 


atque ac 


Annales)... cpulesmvadepaiene niece epee cet 180 389 
ELIStOriaS) Ase Moles arteiataraleetalnesvam aver 62 300 
Germania \iaescicnissrie mclaren 7 48 
ABIEICOlAM ἡ πεν τι aie letenieioisinieleniciaine ehets 27 102 
618 1 RUSE κου λιν ctele wis eleuske ohe a clone herercistete 15 54 


Total : atgue 291, ac 893. 


2) Atgue before vowels occurs before z, 129 times (Ann. 
81, Hist. 31, Germ. 3, Agr. 7, Dial. 7), before a, 50 times 
(Ann. 23, Hist. 16, Germ. 1, Agr.''6, ‘Dial. '4)) before 
strange to say, 24 times (Ann. 13, Hist. 5, Germ. 1, Agr. 5), before 
é, 21 times (Ann. το, Hist. 6, Germ. 2, Agr. 2, Dial. 1), before z, 
11 times (Ann. 7, Hist. 2, Agr. 2) and before ἅ, 11 times (Ann. 5, 
Hist. 1, Agr. 4, Dial. 1). 

3) Ae occurs most frequently before 2, 156 times (Ann. 74, 
Hist. 54, Germ. 9, Agr. 13, Dial. 6), before s, 138 times (Ann. 57, 
Hist. 44, Germ. 6, Agr. 21, Dial. 10), and before 22, 102 times 
(Ann. 50, Hist. 26, Germ. 4, Agr. 17, Dial. 5). It is found least 
often before g, only once (Ann.), before c, 5 times (Ann. 1, Hist. 
1, Agr. 3), and before 4, 14 times (Ann. 5, Hist. 4, Germ. 3, 
Dial. 2). 

4) Ac occurs most frequently in the Annales, Historiae, and 
Germania before 2 and s, in the Agricola before s (21) and 72 (17), 
and in the Dialogus before s (10) and v (10), 2 being third with 
6 occurrences. 

5) Gerber and Greef say of ac: “longe frequentissima est parti- 
cula ante liquidas et litteras 5, Ὁ. A more exact statement is that 
ac occurs most frequently before 2. (156 times), before s (132), 
before (103), before ¢ (80), before 2 (79), before v (76) and 
before Z (74). 

SUMMARY: 

1) In the Silver Age, atgue: ac :: 37.4: 62.6. 

2) Atgue in prose: atgue in poetry :: 62: 38. 

3) In Seneca (prose) ac comprises 86%, in Tacitus 74.1%, in Sue- 
tonius 74.3%, in Plinius mai.63.8%, in Plinius min. 69.9%, in Quintilian 
56.7%, in Petronius 52.3%, in Velleius 67.8%, and in Valerius 
Maximus 66.1%. 


THE USE OF ATQUE AND AC IN SILVER LATIN. 425 


4) In Martial ac is used but once, 9, 22, 15, and in Phaedrus 
ac comprises 16.7%, in Juvenal, 27.4%, in Statius, 32.5%, in Valerius 
Flaccus, 35.3%, in Persius, 40%, in Lucan, 41%, in Silius Italicus, 
43-9%, and in Seneca, 70.3%. 

5) In prose ac occurs most frequently before 2 (698), 5 (685), 
and m (443); in poetry, before s (121), A (112), 2 (84), and m (83). 

6) Ac before ¢:a) in prose: Seneca once, Quintilian twice, 
Tacitus 5 times, Suetonius 5 times, while Plinius mai. shows the 
extraordinarily large number of 30-35'; b) in poetry: Seneca, 
Valerius Flaccus and Statius once each. 

7) Ac before g: Seneca (epist.), Tacitus and Silius Italicus once 
each, Plinius mai. once or twice. 

8) Ac before g: Plinius mai. 4 times, Valerius Flaccus once. 

9) Of ac before a vowel there is but one certain example 
(Plin. mai. II. 174), though Detlefsen writes it in two other 
passages of Pliny. 

10) Afgue was used three and one-half times as often before 
vowels as before consonants. 

11) Atgue was used most frequently before z (548) and ὁ (269) 
in prose, and before z (284) and a (254) in poetry. 

12) The choice of afgue or ac before consonants was deter- 
mined by the character of the consonant which followed. 


Tue COLLEGE OF THE City oF New York. EMORY Β. LEASE. 


1See p. 422 f. 


















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INDICATIVE QUESTIONS WITH μή AND ἄρα uy." 


The first half of section 1603 of Goodwin’s grammar reads as 
follows: “The principal direct interrogative particles are dpa 
and (chiefly poetic) 7. These imply nothing as to the answer 
expected ; but ἄρα οὐ implies an affirmative answer and dpa py a 
negative answer.” The form of these statements leads one to 
believe that ἄρα μή is a common prose construction, and, conse- 
quently, that the number of examples of dpa μή in classical 
prose exceeds the number of #’s, whereas just the reverse is true. 
In section 1015 of Hadley-Allen the sentence dpa μὴ διαβάλλεσθαι 
δόξεις; is cited withouta hint as to the extent of the use of dpa μή either 
in prose or poetry. Kiihner, 587, 11, speaks only of μή and has 
only three words on this: “erst seit Aeschylus,” though to be 
sure, in 587, 14, he says that dpa occurs “erst in der nachhome- 
rischen Sprache.” All other grammars, both German and English, 
are as silent on this subject as Kiihner. The lexicons either 
furnish little information or are misleading. (Cf. Amer. Journ. of 
Philol. III, 515 and XIX, 233:) Commentaries show as little 
sense of proportion in respect to the usage of these interrog- 
ative particles as the grammarians. 

Dyer on Apology 25 A remarks that “questions with μή take a 
neg. answer for granted,” and onCrito 44 E “ ἄρα μή looks fora 
neg. answer, but it may also convey an insinuation that in spite of 
the expected denial the facts really would justify an affirmative 
answer.” There is no intimation of the limitations of both μή and 
dpa μή. On ἄρα μή in Memorabilia II, 6, 34 Winans has nothing to 
say; on IV,2, 10 he refersto the grammars of Goodwin and Hadley; 
and on μή in IV, 2, 12 to Goodwin’s Moods and Tenses 46 n. 4, 


1 My attention was first directed to this subject by Dr.C. W.E. Miller, 
who pointed out to me the rare use of μῇ (dpa μή) as an interrogative 
particle in Classical Greek, and told me that as the result of observations 
in this direction he felt certain that, with the exception of perhaps a solitary 
example in Demosthenes, the construction was not found in the Attic 
orators, and that Plato was about the only prose writer that employed it to 
any noteworthy extent.—J. E. H. 


428 ΨΩ, 


where, he remarks, “another interpretation is given, however, 
reading δύναμαι with Kiihn. and several MSS.” But Goodwin 
reads δύνωμαι in the edition of 1890 (268). 

With the exception of three examples in Xenophon, ἄρα μή does 
not occur in prose outside of Plato; and in the 2442 pages of 
the extant works of this author (Teubner text) only ten examples 
of the construction are found, two of these being in spurious 
dialogues (Anterastae and De Virtute). The Phaedo contains 
three of the remainder; two of these may be counted as one— 
64 C, where ἄρα μὴ ἄλλο τι ἤ is used and then repeated in toto in 
resuming the question; the third is found ἴῃ τος Ὁ. The remain- 
ing five are distributed as follows: Crito 44 E, Parmenides 163 Ὁ, 
Charmides 174 A, Lysis 213 D, Republic 405 A. The indicative 
is used in all the examples except the second one of Phaedo 64 C, 
which has the subjunctive, like the examples of simple μή in 
cautious questions.’ 

The frequency of occurrence of the interrogative particle ἄρα, 
alone and combined with οὐ, ye, οὖν and μή, in the dialogues of 
Plato may be seen from the following conspectus : 


3 , > Ape hs 9ῳ 23 > 
dpa dpa ye ἄρ᾽ οὖν Gp ov Total. ἄρα μή 


Euthyphro’? . 7 I 3 4 14 τ 
Apology : 2 εἰς I be 3 ΝΕ 
Crito®’. - φ I I I 6 I 
Phaedo τε & 13 yas 9 13 33 3 
Cratylus, Ὁ: ri 2 12 19 41 an 
Theaetetus . 25 bof II II 44 

Sophistes. . 15 ἐ 6 29 48 at 
Politicus . ‘ 12 Ι 8 17 38 Ful 
Parmenides. 13 2 20 26 55 I 
Philebus:;; \ >". 18 ine 21 28 65 

Symposium . 5 I 3 aA 9 

Phaedrus. 3 I I 6 9 13 

AlcibiadesI . Τὴ ὙΠῸ 13 6 34 see 
Alcibiades II . 2 3 7 5 16 sbis 


‘Goodwin (M T 268) and Weber cite all the examples except Cratylus 
429 C μὴ γὰρ οὐδὲ τοῦτο αὖ ἢ, τὸ τοῦτον φάναι “Ἑρμογένη εἶναι, εἰ μὴ ἔστιν ; 

3 dp’ οὖν οὐ (14 D) is counted twice. Hence the apparent mistake in the 
total column. So also in Leges and De Virtute. 


INDICATIVE QUESTIONS WITH μή AND ἄρα μή. 429 


dpa apd ye ap οὖν dp ov Total. ἄρα μή 


Hipparchus . 4 2 ei 6 
Anterastae I 8 I 5 I 
Theages . : 2 2 “δὴ 4 8 
Charmides 5 3 2 II I 
Laches 4 sue dig I 5 
LLysis' . ὃ 9 Ι ΙΟ 2 21 I 
Euthydemus . 13 2 13 2 30 
Protagoras . II aly 7 8 26 
Ks0reias το: 27 ae 22 I 50 
Meno. . II ys 5 6 21 
Hippias Maior. 4 ae 8 6 16 
Hippias Minor. 2 Ke, 2 2 5 
Ion . : 2 ὙΠ ahs Ne 2 ee 
Republic ; 42 4 95 8I 190 I 
Timaeus. I wh 3 6 
Minos. : I ah 2 2 5 
Leges ‘ 29 4 a3 59 113 
Epinomis I ois aie 3 4 
Epistolae 2 I I os 4 
De lustitia. I I aie 6 8 : 
De Virtute . 3 Hee = I 6 I 
Demodocus I - I ais 2 
Sisyphus . 3 3 3 2 II 
Alcyon ; I : Ι : 
Eryxias : 10 4 5 19 


| 


334 BONG § BER) Vv ZCO 10 


ve) 
\O 
ἘΣ 


It will be seen from the table that ἄρα, dp’ οὖν and dp’ od nearly 
balance each other; there are nearly twice as many examples of 
dpa as of Gp’ οὐ, and only one out of every hundred of the dpa’s is 
followed by μή. 

There are 104 examples of ἄρα in the orators (including both 
genuine and spurious speeches). Of these 22 are followed by ov. 
"Apd ye appears 17 times and Gp’ οὖν 23. Demosthenes has a 
greater number of Gpa’s than all the others together (64); half of 
them are found in orations XVIIJ—-X XIV; and ten are followed 
by ov. There is little variation in the figures for the rest of the 
orators (except Antiphon, in whom the particle does not occur), 


430 7 E. HARRY. 


Andocides having two examples (both without οὐ), Lysias seven 
(one negative), Isocrates five (one neg.), Isaeus five (one neg.), 
Lycurgus six (three negatives), Aeschines five (one neg.), 
Hyperides four (all neg.), Dinarchus four (no negatives). 

In the historians ἄρα hardly makes its appearance—twice in 
Herodotus (ἄρα III, 50; ἄρ᾽ οὐ IX, 27) and only once in Thucyd- 
ides (I, 75, 1, where ἄρα ΞΞ dp’ οὐ, as in Sophocles, Ο. C. 753, 780, 
Aristophanes, Birds 797). 

Xenophon has go examples of ἄρα [36 of simple dpa, 15 of Gp’ οὐ, 
2 of ἄρα μή, 26 of Gp’ οὖν (including one Gp’ ody .. . μή), and 11 of apa 
ye]. More than half of these (48) occur in the Memorabilia. The 
rest appear as follows: Anab. 4, Cyropaed. 18, Hellen. 1, minor 
works 19. Of the 15 examples of dp’ od, eight belong to the 
Memorabilia, three to the Anabasis, one to the Cyropaedia and 
three to the minor works. Ten examples of the combination dp’ ἄν 
(followed by the optative) are found in the Cyropaedia alone. 
The references for the three instances of dpa μή are Mem. II, 6, 
34; ΝΖ 10% ‘and Anab. W11,'6, 5. 

Interrogative μή occurs neither in the orators’ nor in the his- 
torians. Even μῶν, which is commoner in Plato than μή and must 
be regarded as differing from μὴ οὖν (μῶν μή, μῶν οὐ and μῶν οὖν are 
not rare), does not appear in the orators, historians or Xenophon. 

There are twenty-four examples of μή interrogative in Plato. 
Of these the greatest number is in the Republic (6); the Protag- 
oras comes next with five; two each are found in Euthydemus, 
Gorgias, Meno, and Apology; one each in Phaedo and Hippias 
Major, and three in the Theaetetus (not counting the repetition 
in 146 E). In Meno 89 C (μὴ τοῦτο οὐ καλῶς ὡμολογήσαμεν;) ov and 
καλῶς coalesce, as does οὐ and τοιαύτην in Protagoras 312 A μὴ οὐ 
τοιαύτην ὑπολαμβάνεις σου τὴν μάθησιν ἔσεσθαι; (which, however, 
Goodwin considers declarative). Over against these 24 examples 
of μή there are 83 instances of μῶν, which include 28 occurrences 
of μῶν οὐ, 5 Of μῶν μή, and 18 of μῶν οὖν, this last embracing 8 
instances of μῶν οὖν οὐ. 


1 There is an example of μή with the past indic. in Dem. XX, 160 (τί; μὴ 
kai τὰ μέλλοντ᾽ 1δεις 3), but the passage is possibly corrupt. The form of the 
rhetorical ὑποφορά immediately following indicates that the preceding 
question was not put as it appears in our MSS. Many readings suggest 
themselves, 6. g. τί det καὶ τὰ μέλλοντ᾽ ἤδη ; 


INDICATIVE QUESTIONS WITH μή AND ἄρα μή. 431 


All the questions introduced by μή in Xenophon occur in 
Memorabilia IV, 2, 10 (except one in III, 11, 4 μὴ χειροτέχναι τινές;), 
and the four found here are merely a continuation of Socrates’ 
question Apa μὴ ἰατρός (SC. βούλει, OF ἐπιθυμεῖς, γενέσθαι) ;} μῶν, as 
has been stated above, does not occur in Xenophon. 

So much for the classical prose writers. Let us now direct 
our attention to the poets. Though dpa μή is, as we have seen, 
rare in prose, it is still rarer in poetry, there being only three 
examples in the whole range of epic, lyric and dramatic 
literature. No instance can be cited from Homer; none from the 
melic poets; none from Aristophanes. It appears twice in 
Sophocles (El. 446, Ant. 632) and once in Aeschylus (Septem 
208). As for dp’ ov, Aeschylus has not a single example, Sophocles 
but three, Euripides five, whereas Plato has 360. Simple ἄρα 
occurs ten times in Aeschylus ; there are 38 examples in Sophocles 
and 52 in Euripides—just 100 in all. There are 48 dpa’s (seven 
of these followed by od) in Aristophanes, but, as has been stated, 
not a single dpa μή. 

Simple μή (without a preceding interrogative particle) is not 
found before Aeschylus, and in all the tragic poets occurs but 
six times, four of these being in Aeschylus (P. V. 247, 959, Pers. 
344, Suppl. 295), one in Sophocles (Trach. 316),? one in Euripides 
(Hipp. 799). In Aristophanes there is but one example, and that 
is found in the brogue of the Scythian archer (Thesm. 1114 
σκέψαι τὸ κύστο᾽ μή τι μικτὸν παίνεται;. The compound μῶν, on 
the other hand, (used only by the Attic writers), can not be 
classed with μή, for, although it is not employed by any prose 
writer except Plato, the particle occurs frequently in comedy (27 
examples in Aristophanes) as well as in tragedy (41 examples). 
The fact that μῶν occurs 33 times in Euripides and only five and 
three times in Sophocles and Aeschylus respectively (together 
with its use in comedy and its absence from the orators and histo- 
rians) seems to indicate that it belongs to the sermo familiaris. 


1There is another example in the Oeconomicus (XII, 1 μῇ ce κατακωλύω 
ἀπιέναι ἤδη BovAduevoyv;). This may, however, be taken as a hortatory sub- 
junctive, and so Holden explains (although in his text the sentence is 
interrogative), translating “let me not detain you,” and referring to Goodwin 
253 (1344). Kiihner and Dindorf regard the sentence as a question, In 
Mem. IV, 2, 12 μὴ οὖν... ov δύνωμαι xré, the mood is the subjunctive, 

3 The verb in this passage is unexpressed. 


432 J. E. HARRY. 


Μῶν οὖν is found twice in Aeschylus and once in Euripides; μῶν οὐ 
occurs but twice in the tragic pace (Eur. Med. 733, Troad. 714), 
μῶν μή not at all. 

The interrogative ἢ occurs, of course, much more frequently 
in the tragic poets than in prose (25 times in Aeschylus, 61 times 
in Sophocles, and 74 times in Euripides). Aristophanes again 
comes near the prose norm with hardly a dozen examples. 

If I can trust to a rapid reading of Aristotle, neither μή nor apa 
μή appears in his writings. The same may be said of Callimachus, 
Apollonius Rhodius, Lycophron, Theocritus, Bion, Moschus, 
Polybius, and Diodorus Siculus (2043 Teubner pages).’ 

In Theophrastus ἄρα μή does not occur at all and py is found 
but once, and that in one of the Characters (Περὶ Aoyorotias), where 
the author is giving a sample of ordinary small talk, and puts 
in the mouth of his character the words μὴ λέγεται καινότερον; Im- 
mediately thereafter Foss would read μὴ ἀγαθά γέ ἐστι τὰ λεγόμενα ; 
but the MSS have καὶ μὴν instead of μὴ. 

Yet in spite of the fact that in the whole domain of Greek liter- 
ature, ffom Homer down to the time of Christ, a period of one 
thousand years, dpa μή appears but three times in poetry and 
11 (13) times in prose, a celebrated scholar (Blaydes) desires 
to emend a perfectly intelligible sentence in Sophocles dpa pov 
μέμνησθε; (O. T. 1401) so as to read ἄρα μὴ μέμνησθε; 

When we come to the New Testament we have a different story 
to tell: μή in questions is common—eight times in Matthew, four 
in Mark, six in Luke, twenty-one in John, four in James, eight in 
Romans, fourteen in I Corinthians and four in II Corinthians. 
All of these are with the indicative. The sum total, then, of ques- 
tions with μή in the New Testament is sixty-nine, a greater number 
than in all the prose and poetry of the ten centuries preceding. 

All the examples of μή in the New Testament are found in eight 
books, the four gospels containing more than half of the whole 
number (39). About one-third of the number (21) are in John 
alone. In about one-half of the cases (32) the verb is one of the 


1Not unlike the behavior of dpa μῇ is that of ἄλλο τι and dAdo te 7. These 
phrases do not appear to any extent outside of Plato. There isnot a single 
example in the orators except Lysias (two instances only, one of these in 
a genuine speech and supporting the thesis that the phrase belongs to the 
language of everyday life, the other in a spurious speech) and the un- 
rhetorical orator, Andocides. 


INDICATIVE QUESTIONS WITH μή AND pa μή. 433 


three that are most common in the speech of everyday life (ée, 
can, have). An even dozen of the μή᾽5 appear in the form of μή τι. 
The double negative μὴ οὐ is found in Romans x, 18. The nega- 
tive οὐχί 15 very frequently the introductory word of a sentence; 
and dpa ye is found in Acts viii, 30. 

The behavior of the particles in later Greek is similar to their 
conduct in the pre-Christian period. Dionysius of Halicarnassus, 
who sought to revive a true standard of Attic prose, has not a 
single example of either. In Plutarch (3670 pages in the Teubner 
text) dpa μή does not occur (though dpa alone does), μή only once, 
Alexander XXVIII μή τι σὺ τοιοῦτον ὁ τοῦ Διός; 

In the sophist Dio Chrysostomus we find two examples of ἄρα μή 
and six of μή: XXXII (683 R) dpa ye μὴ Λακεδαιμονίους μιμεῖσθε; LVII 
(296 R) ἄρα μὴ ἀλαζόνα πεποίηκε τὸν Νέστορα; IX (294 R) μὴ οὖν 
θαυμάζουσιν αὐτόν; Χ (306 R) μὴ γὰρ ἐκεῖνος ἔλυσε τὸ αἴνιγμα; XIV 
(438 R) μὴ οὖν σὺ φὴς ἐλεύθερον εἶναι τὸν ἄνδρα τοῦτον; XXX (548 R) 
ἀλλὰ μή τι ὑμᾶς ἐλύπει; XXXII (676 R) μὴ τὰ ὦτα ἐπαλήλιπται τῶν 
ἐκεῖ; LVIII (301 R) μὴ οὖν αὐτός γε αἱρεῖ ;" 

Even Lucian, in spite of the fact that he wrote the best Attic 
prose that had been written for four hundred years, is not fault- 
less. He uses μή for οὐ; but this should not surprise us, as he was 
a man free from affectation and would naturally use the language 
as it was spoken, so far as he could without being rude.” But 
Lucian is not fonder of the μή construction in questions than Dio 
Chrysostomus, and in the 1301 pages of the Teubner edition not a 
single example of dpa μή can be found. μή occurs only eight 
(really seven) times, as follows: μὴ ὀνείρων ὑποκριτάς τινας ἡμᾶς 
ὑπείληφεν; CEvirmor I, 22 R.), ᾿Αλλὰ μὴ ὄνειρος καὶ ταῦτά ἐστιν; (“Ovetpos 
II, 706), σὺ δὲ μὴ καὶ τὸν Σωκράτην αὐτὸν καὶ τὸν Πλάτωνα εἶδες ἐν τοῖς 
νεκροῖς; (Φιλοψευδής III, 52), ᾿Αλλὰ μὴ Ἑ ρμαφρόδιτος εἶ; . . . μὴ οὖν καὶ 
σὺ τοιοῦτόν τι πέπονθας; (ταιρικοὶ Λόγοι II], 291), μή τι τὸν παιδοτρίβην 
Διότιμον λέγεις; (Ibid. 305), μή τι διήμαρτες βαλών; (Ψευδοσοφιστής III, 
571), and one in the Pseudo-Lucianic dialogue Φιλοπατρίς (III, 597), 
μὴ τὴν τετρακτὺν φὴς τὴν Πυθαγόρου; The particles μῶν, ἄρα and dp’ 
οὖν are found occasionally. 


1Dindorf brackets the passage in which dpa μή with the subjunctive 
occurs (XXVI, 524 KR). Dio does not write as good Attic as Niebuhr 
would have us believe, See Amer. Journ. of Philol. I, 48, 50, 53, 57. 

2 See A. J.P. 1,47. 


28 


434 J. E. HARRY. 


Of the writers of the third century A. D. I selected Plotinus 
and Philostratus for investigation. The chief representative 
of Neo-Platonism uses ἄρα, dpa ye and Gp’ od, but never μή or dpa 
μή. In Philostratus are found μῶν, dpa, dp’ ob and ἢ; and two ex- 
amples of μή: Ap. V, 33 μὴ μεῖζόν τι τούτων; V, 34 μή τι τοῖς εἰρημένοις 
προστίθης; In the thirty-ninth epistle another question (Μηδὲ γράφειν 
φυγάδα avéén;) might be added to the number. 


UNIVERSITY OF CINCINNATI. as E. Harry. 


RIME-PARALLELISM IN OLD HIGH GERMAN 
VERSE. 


As is indicated in the first part of the title, Old High German 
verse here means rimed verse, embracing in addition to Otfrid the 
following minor monuments: Ludwigslied, Georgslied, Petrus- 
lied, Christus und die Samariterin, Psalm 138 and De Heinrico. 
The date of composition of most of these minor poems is less 
certain than that of Otfrid’s Evangelienbuch. They probably, 
however, all follow the latter in point of time, ranging from the 
Ludwigslied of 881-882 to the De Heinrico of perhaps 984 
(Koegel). In regard to length also the shorter poems are at a 
considerable disadvantage as compared with Otfrid, the latter, 
inclusive of the acrostics, numbering 7416 lines,’ whereas the 
longest of the minor poems, the Ludwigslied, has only 59 lines, 
and the shortest, the Petruslied, barely nine lines. 

By rime-parallelism is meant the joining in rime of words that 
are from a morphological point of view, more especially in respect 
to endings of declension and conjugation, parallel forms. Adverbs 
in -0, while strictly speaking not falling under this rubric, have 
also been included. To illustrate the nature of this parallelism I 
cite? a passage from Otfrid, III, 25, 15-26. 


», 50 quement Romani ouh ubar thaz, nement thaz lant ailaz 
joh ouh thes giflizent, iz italaz lazent; 
Mit wafanu unsih thuingent, oba sies biginnent ; 
mit kreftigera henti duent unsih elilenti. 
Wanent sie bi notin, thaz wir then urheiz datin, 
joh wir thes biginnen, thaz widar in ringen.“ 
Gab einer tho girati thuruh thaz heroti, 
bihiaz sih ther thes wares, ther biscof was thes jares. 
» Ni bithenket,“* quad, ,,in wara unserero allo zala, 
joh ir ouh wiht thes ni ahtot ouh drof es ni bidrahtot, 
Thaz baz ist, man biwerbe, thaz ein man bi unsih sterbe, 
joh einer bi unsih dowe, ther liut 51} thes gifrowe.“ 


1The figures of Wilmanns, ZfdA. xvi, 117 are not altogether correct. 
? Quotations from Otfrid are from Erdmann’s large edition. 


436 BERT JOHN VOS. 


This is evidently rime in a most rudimentary state. In relation 
to rime proper—be it stem- or suffix-rime—it is a veritable pons 
asinorum. Didthe poet realize this and did he attempt to count- 
eract the effect by including in the rime the root-syllables of the 
words in question, in addition to the suffix-syllables? This could 
only be determined by computing the proportion that parallel 
rimes in which the rime embraces more than one syllable bear to 
such as are non-parallel. There is, however, no likelihood that 
there was such an effort on the part of the poet: the frequency of 
the phenomenon would in itself seem to preclude such a view. 
While, therefore, the underlying principle is to a certain extent 
the same as that on which the use of identical rime in classical 
Middle High German poetry is based, there are yet decided 
differences: 1. In the case of rime-parallelism complete identity 
of sound does not necessarily, or even customarily, follow. 2. It 
is not a mere makeshift, but is characteristic of the verse. 

Granted that parallel suffix-rime represents rime in a rudimentary 
state of development, and that is characteristic of Otfrid’s verse 


1Tf additional evidence that rime-parallelism is a real factor in the 
make-up of Otfrid’s verse is demanded, it may be gathered from an exam- 
ination of individual rime-groups. Rimes in -z¢ afford an example. There 
are 324 such rimes (162 rime-pairs) in Otfrid. Of these, forms of the third 
person singular constitute the larger part: 219 altogether. Now 172 of 
these latter are found joined in parallel rime, and in the case of two other 
rime-pairs we find a third person singular linked with φηΖέ, which on 
account of the difference in quantity has, as noted below, not been classed 
as parallel rime. In other words, of 219 forms of the third person singular, 
there are only 43 rimes that are each joined in rime with one of the remain- 
ing 105 forms in -z#, Similarly in the case of the weak uninflected past par- 
ticiples. We find 70 of these in rime position, 32 being Jinked in parallel 
rime, 38 riming each with one of the remaining 254 forms. An examination 
of rimes in -az yields similar results. There are 422 such rimes, made up in 
part of 124 infinitives (exclusive of mz-verbs), 80 past participles and 67 
accusatives singular. Of the infinitives 74 are parallel, of the past par- 
ticiples 46, and of the accusatives 40, leaving 50 infinitives, 34 past 
participles and 27 accusatives, with rime facilities respectively of 298, 342 
and 355. For the completeness of these statistics I rely upon Ingenbleek’s 
Reimlexikon zu Otfrid, QuF. xxxvii. 

It is also interesting to note that parallel rimes otherwise uncommon, 
when once occurring, are apt to be ‘ bunched ’—an evidence of the psycho- 
logical element involved in the phenomenon. For examples see Otfrid I, 
4, 68 ff.; II, 4, 62 and 64; II, 4,92 and 96; IV, 18, 27 ff.; V, 6, 36 ff. 


RIME-PARALLELISM IN OLD HIGH GERMAN. 437 


in so far as the latter is suffix- and not stem-rime, some light 
would seem to be thrown on the much mooted question of the 
origin of rime in German. If end-rime in German is, in respect 
to its origin, as ancient as alliterative rime, and if at the time of 
Otfrid it had passed through centuries of growth and cultivation, 
how is this primitive condition to be explained ? 

There are a number of difficulties encountered in determining 
just what constitutes parallelism of rime. If our theory as to its 
nature be correct, then such parallelism is to be assumed wher- 
ever in the mind of the poet the forms were regarded as parallel. 
This involves, however, practically a reconstruction of the declen- 
sional and conjugational groups of Old High German Grammar, 
areconstructionin which the psychological element must needs play 
an important part. In addition, the question of rimes betweenshort 
and long vowels is of some consequence. Whether e. g. such 
forms as zed/en and farén are to be considered parallel when 
linked in rime, depends upon whether we believe with Zarncke 
and Koegel that quantity plays no part in Otfrid’s rimes, or with 
Wilmanns, Paul and Zwierzina that long and short vowels are in 
the Evangelienbuch not joined in rime indiscriminately. I am 
of the latter opinion and I should therefore not regard ve and 
farén as constituting parallel rimes.’ 

Two kinds of parallelism may be distinguished. In the first 
of these the riming words conform merely from a morphological 


1 The grouping adopted in determining what is parallel in the doubtful 
noun-classes is as follows: a) Masculine -a, -ja and -wa stems; mascu- 
line -i stems (sing.), neuter -a and -wa stems. b) Masculine -ja stems and 
neuter -ja stems. c) Feminine -6 and -j6 stems. 

Masculine and neuter nouns have consistently been kept apart from 
feminine nouns. Neuter -o stems and -jo stems have also not been 
classed as parallel. Personal pronouns (1, 2, 3 person and reflexive), in 
view of the identity of stem and ending in a majority of the forms, have 
likewise been ruled out. As indicated above, forms known to differ in 
quantity have in no case been accounted parallel, Different cases (nom. 
and acc. pl., etc.) and different persons (1 and 3 person, singular and plural) 
have been kept separate. Adjectives (possessive pronouns, demonstrative 
pronouns, participles) have been regarded as parallel with nouns of iden- 
tical case, case-ending and number. This does not include such forms as 
min, thin, etc., but only those that clearly show acase-ending. Where 
the endings of adjective and noun essentially differed, the forms have not 
been classed as parallel, even though the final vowel was the same. 


438 BERT JOHN VOS. 


point of view, in the second there is syntactical as well as mor- 
phological agreement. The former of these is by far the more 
common. Where syntactical correspondence exists, it is, of 
course, possible that a distinct stylistic effect has been aimed 
at, and at times this does seem to be actually the case, although 
the instances are comparatively rare.’ There is some ground, I 
think, for finding a connection between the principle of variation 
as observed in alliterative verse and this latter form of syntactical 
rime-parallelism.? 

It is natural to inquire whether a study of parallel rime in Otfrid 
throws any light upon the order in which the different portions 
of the work were composed. The complete statistic, giving the 
percentage of the parallel rimes to the total number of lines in 
each chapter, is as follows: 

ΤΠ 24 Ὁ} 5. 122.05) TL; 22:8. 

I, 1, 33-33 2) 27-6; 3, 243 4, 32-6; 5, 31-9; 6, 33-3; 7, 17-93 
8.32.1: Ο 22.5510, 253 01), 37.14.02, 07.05 13,145.05) ieee 
155/303 /16,:35:7'5/17 26.9; 18, 17-4 5 10, 28.635) 20; 23.0521, toga 
22) 94.2523, 35.93; 24).303)'25, 86.7.;. 26, 214527, 34.45 ΠΡ 
Average, 29.1. 

II, 1,42; 2, 28.9; 3, 22.2; 4. 28.7; 5, 32-1; 6, 34-55 7; 38:25 
8, 26:8. δὴ 20.651; ΘΟ Τὰν 32.43 12,417.75 03) A225) ee 
15, 25; 16, 32.5; 17, 29.2; 18, 33-3; 19, 17-9; 20, 35.73 21, 29:53 
22, 35.7.25, 10.7.2 24) 20.0 JAVerAge, | 31.4. 

Ill) 1, 36:43 2,/28:03 ἡ. 28:6. ἅν 30.6; 5, 15:6 ΟΣ goatee 
8, 32; 9, 30; 10, 21.7; 11, 43.75; 12, 38.6; 13, 29.3; 14, 37-5; 
15, 36.53 16, 33:8; 27, 32-6 18; 211; 10, '23:75 20) 128.5, 2150. Ὁ} 
22, 32.43 23, 30324, 28.6; 25, 45; 26, 32.9. Average, 32: 

IV, 1, 35-25 2, 41-25 3, 12:53 4, 38.2; 5, 33-3; 6, 42.9; 7, 30.43 
8, 35:73 9) 39-23 10, 37-55. 11, 19.2; 12, 20.3; 13, 25.95 14, 27.85 
15, 23-4; 16, 33-9; 17, 43-75; 18, 19; 19, 31-6; 20, 32.5; 21, 19.4; 
22,:20,63' 23, 13.6;)24, 18.45 25;'35-7\5 20) 32:75) '27, 30s 25. 57:5 
29, 32-8; 30, 19.4; 31, 13-93 32, 33:3; 33, 30; 34, 19-25 35, 43-23 
36, 45:85 37, 32.6.) Average, 20.7. 

V1, 35:43 12) 9607'5: 3, 405 4, 28.03 5. 136516, 130-057, ceceer 
8, 20.7; 9, 32:1; 10, 33-35 11, 42; 12, 23; 13, 33-3; 14, 16.73 


1 See the refrains, Otfrid II, 1, 16, ff., and V, 15,9; 21; 35- 

2For the connection between parallelism of expression in Otfrid and 
variation in alliterative poetry see P. Schiitze, Beitrage zur Poetik Otfrids, 
Kiel, 1887. 


RIME-PARALLELISM IN OLD HIGH GERMAN. 439 


ΤΠ} 201 τ TO 20.4 Teo TS Les f TO. Faas Ou ae Gy 20, πον; 
22, 18.753 23, 31-2; 24, 18.2; 25, 30.8. Average, 28.5. 

Average for the whole Evangelienbuch, exclusive of the 
acrostics, 30.2. 

It will be seen that taking each book as a whole the differences 
in percentage are very slight. Individual chapters show consid- 
erable variation, the range being from 12.5 in IV,3 to 50 in II, 
10. There are twenty-five chapters with a ratio below twenty, 
and fourteen with a ratio of forty and over. It is to be observed, 
however, that nearly all the chapters that show an abnormally 
low percentage are extremely short, only four out of twenty-five 
containing forty lines or over.’ This observation does not, in the 
same degree at least, apply to the chapters showing a high ratio: 
seven out of fourteen contain forty lines or over. 

In view of these facts, it is manifestly impossible to base on this 
single criterion a new theory as to the order in which Otfrid’s 
work was produced. Nor can the test be made use of to corrob- 
orate, to any extent, the results arrived at by others. To take, 
for example, the theory expounded by Erdmann on pages 
Ixv—vi of his Introduction. He there distinguishes four groups: 

A. Fritheste Versuche (noch ohne merkliche Beziehung auf 
das Gesammtwerk). 

B. Allmahlich durchgefiihrte Ausarbeitung des Evangelien- 
buchs. 

C. Selbstandige Stiicke ... zur Abrundung und Ausfillung 
in das Werk aufgenommen. 

D. Letzte, bei der Schlussredaction hinzugefiigte Stiicke und 
Anhange. 

Without attempting to distinguish B and C from each other 
or from A and D, we should at any rate expect to find a differ- 
ence in ratio’of parallel rimes between groups A and D. Such 
is not, however, the case. In the nine (entire) chapters which 
Erdmann groups under A, the range is from 17.9 to 35.7, in the 
twelve (entire) chapters under D, from 18.2 to 42.9. 

I do not believe, therefore, that any theory of order of compo- 
sition can be based on this statistic. any more than on that 
of Wilmanns, ZfdA., XVI, 117, for stem-rime. Wilmanns there 
computes for the different books the proportion of rimes in which 


1 The average length of a chapter is about fifty-one lines, 


440 BERT JOHN VOS. 


at least one rime-word is a root-syllable to the total number of 
couplets and finds it varying from 20.4 in Book I to 30.3 in 
Book III. His percentages are as follows: I, 20.4; II, 29.8; 
III, 30.3; IV, 28.9; V, 26.8. From this Wilmanns concludes 
that Books I and V were composed first. It would seem, how- 
ever, that first of all no importance can be attached to the slight 
difference in percentage between Books IV and V, 26.8 (more 
correctly 26.9) and 28.9, when none is attached by Wilmanns 
himself to that between the 28.9 of Book IV and the 30.3 of 
Book III. Furthermore, the whole argument begs the question 
whether books or chapters constituted the unit of composition. 
Erdmann, as we have seen, practically assumes the latter, and 
this would seem to be the only sound method of procedure, as 
long as the opposite has not been proved. In the third place, it 
does not appear why rimes extending over more than one 50]- 
lable should be classified as suffix-rime rather than as stem-rime. 
As Wilmanns gives only the sum-total of his figures there is no 
way in which his grouping can be altered. The subject of 
stem-rime and suffix-rime will again be touched upon below. 

How do the results for Otfrid compare with the technic of the 
minor poems? The poem entitled De Heinrico does not come 
in for consideration on account of its mixture of German and 
Latin. Nor is any importance to be attached to the extremely 
short Petruslied, consisting as it does—exclusive of the refrain—of 
some six lines. The tabulated results are as follows: 


Otirid 7 : : ἱ : 30.2 


Ludwigslied . : : gone 

Georgslied’ . : : : 42.1 
Petruslied : Σ : ἘΠ ΤΟ] 
Christus u.d.S. . : ‘ 12.9 
Psalm 138 : : : of ay 


The arrangement is a chronological one. To do away with 
a possible element of subjectiveness, Koegel’s conclusions as 


1In judging the result for the Georgslied the presence of a refrain (selbo: 
Gorio), which in slightly varying forms occurs four times (6, 11, 48, 55), 
must perhaps be borne in mind. Not counting these the ratio would be 
35.1. The poem has, however, also numerous refrains without parallelism 
(16, 21, 26-8, 33-5, 41-3), so that after all it can perhaps not be considered 
a factor that affects the result. 


RIME-PARALLELISM IN OLD HIGH GERMAN. 441 


regards dating have been followed. The general trend is unmis- 
takable: a gradual decrease in the use of parallel rimes. The 
Ludwigslied and the Georgslied are grouped: by the side of the 
Evangelienbuch as opposed to Christus u. d. S. and the Psalm. 
This difference may be brought out still more forcibly by an 
examination of the passage in Otfrid’s work (II, 14, 1-60) which 
treats the same theme as Christus u.d.S. We find that Otfrid 
here uses 33.3 per cent of parallel rimes, whereas the other poet, 
treating the identical subject, uses but 12.9 per cent. 

It is interesting to notice that this decrease in the use of rime- 
parallelism is accompanied by, and finds a partial explanation in, 
an increased use of stem-rime. For Otfrid I am here dependent 
upon the statistic of Wilmanns. As indicated above, in the sense 
that Wilmanns attaches to the term, stem-rime includes the rime 
of root-syllable with root-syllable, as well as of root-syllable with 
inflectional syllable. It does not include rimes extending over 
two syllables. While I do not believe this classification to be the 
best that could be made, I have yet followed it in the case of the 
minor poems, in order to make a comparison with Otfrid possible. 
The figures are: 


Stem-rime. Suffix-rime. [Parallel rimes,] 
Otfrid, 27.5 72:8 [30.2 
Ludwigslied, 45.8 54.2 22 
Georgslied, Δ 58.9 42.1 
Petruslied, 50 50 16.7 
Christus u.d.S., 51.6 48.4 12.9 
Psalm 138, 60 40 5-7] 


What is important to notice here, is that rime-parallelism 
decreases far more rapidly than suffix-rime, and that the former 
is therefore not absolutely conditioned by the latter. While in 
Otfrid, the Ludwigslied, and the Georgslied the ratio of parallel 
rimes to suffix-rimes ranges from 1.4 to 2.5, the ratio in Christus 
u. d. S. is 3.8 and in the Psalm 7. 

One other matter remains to be touched upon: the relative 
frequency of the various grammatical categories in parallel rime. 
In the subjoined statistic the term adjective is to be understood in 
the wider sense, including inflected participles, demonstrative 
pronouns, etc. 


442 BERT JOHN VOS. 


Finite Past Part, Pr. Pte ΠΡ. bres Noun: Adv. 
Inf. forms Strong Weak (unin- -joadj. Adj. Noun Adj. in-o 
flected) 

Otfrid I, τὰν Es6 2 4 iy I 74 54 2 20 
{ΠΡ 20 220 2 8 ο fe) 37 61 20 23 
II], Ay NR 7 fr) 3 I 3 fo) 71 96 17 14 
IN, 24 263 6 3 I ο 43 86 22 19 
V, 20) 100 12 4 2 ο 42 109 22 14 
LSH, ο 18 ο Ι ο ο 3 37 9 4 
Ludwigslied, o 5 I I ο fo) 2 3 I ο 
Georgslied, ὃ 2 fo) fo) fo) fo) 5 4 5 ° 
Petruslied, 1 fe) fo) fo) fe) fe) fe) ο ο ο 
Chr. u. d. S., 0 3 ο fo) ο ο ο Ι ο ο 
Psalm, I fo) fo) fe) ο fo) fe) I fo) fo) 


What is striking in this statistic is the relatively large number 
of present participles found in Otfrid I, about twice that found in 
the other four books together. In view of the other stylistic 
peculiarities found in this book,’ which are usually explained as 
due to an earlier date of composition, this feature may perhaps 
be held to further strengthen this position. Nearly half (5) of 
these rimes occur in a chapter (I, 4) which Erdmann classes 
under A, and in which Koegel discovers four alliterative lines. 
The numerous infinitives in the Georgslied are also noteworthy, 
there being one in every seven lines as compared with one in 
every seventy-three lines in Otfrid. That the acrostics should be 
abnormal in the ratio that the nominal forms bear to the verbal 
forms is explained by the fact that the former have a greater 
variety of endings and are therefore better adapted to this 
artificial kind of verse. 

Jouns Hopkins UNIVERSITY. BERT JOHN Vos. 


1 More especially rimeless verses and the use of alliteration. See Koegel, 
Deutsche Litteraturgeschichte, I, 2, 23 and 40, and PG.? II, 116. 


DID EURIPIDES WRITE σκύμνων HIPP. 1276? 


Investigations in the Kynegetikos ascribed to Xenophon have 
for some years led the present writer to observe with attention 
the position of the dog in various periods of Greek life, and 
in various departments of Greek letters. The following paper has 
been prompted by the Tragic Dog. 

There are two curious tales that have come down to us, perhaps 
the mere symbolic expression of a passing fancy, perhaps sug- 
gested by an actual tradition. Of Sophokles it is said (Diog. 
Laert. 4, 20), κατὰ τὸν κωμικὸν τὰ ποιήματα αὐτῷ κύων Tis ἐδόκει συμποιεῖν 
Μολοττικός ; while of Euripides Haigh (Tragic Drama of the Greeks) 
quotes among others Sotades (Stob. Flor. 98, 9), κύνες of κατὰ 
Θράκην Εὐριπίδην ἔτρωγον. 

Euripides, if any poet, challenges close investigation; his syntax 
has the precision of a foreigner; point after point is made by strict 
attention to his language; he himself was an unflinching critic 
of minutiae (Ar. Ran. 801 ὁ γὰρ Εὐριπίδης | κατ’ ἔπος βασανιεῖν φησι 
τὰς τραγῳδίας᾽ cf. 826 544.). One may claim pardon then for going 
into details; but—to avert the omen—we shall take up only two 
plays, the Hippolytos and the Bakchai, the other plays containing 
for the most part only unimportant passages bearing on the case, 
or points of negative value such as the impression created by 
isolated expressions (θηρεύειν etc.) combined with the absence 
of sustained allusion. 

The Hippolytos (B. c. 428) one might reasonably expect to 
show signs of interest in the chase more striking than those 
of a landscape painter, for εἰσορῶ (52-3) 


στείχοντα θήρας μόχθον ἐκλελοιπότα 
Ἱππόλυτον. 


κῶμος λέλακεν (VS. 55) is expressive enough of ἃ troop of huntsmen, 
λ. being used of Skylla and her voice ὅση σκύλακος νεογιλῆς (cf. 
hymn. in Herm. 145 υὐδὲ κύνες λελάκοντο). Eur. also uses the verb 
(it is a specialty with him) in Alk. 345 544. οὐ γάρ mor’ οὔτ᾽ ἂν 
BapBirov θίγοιμ᾽ ἔτι | οὔτ᾽ ἂν φρέν᾽ ἐξαίροιμι πρὸς Λίβυν λακεῖν αὐλόν. 


444 HENRY N. SANDERS. 


Perhaps in thus belittling his attempts at music Admetos but 
shows a reversion to type when the social hand of his model wife 
was no more in evidence. 

Vs. 109 τερπνὸν ἐκ κυναγίας | τράπεζα πλήρης (cf. Bakch. 339, Soph. 
Ai. 37) is a truism needing as little poetic imagination as ex- 
perience. 

v. 215. Phaidra. πέμπετέ μ᾽ εἰς ὄρος" εἶμι πρὸς ὕλαν 

καὶ παρὰ πεύκας, ἵνα θηροφόνοι 
στείβουσι κύνες 
βαλιαῖς ἐλάφοις ἐγχριμπτόμεναι" 
πρὸς θεῶν, ἔραμαι κυσὶ θωύξαι 
καὶ παρὰ χαίταν ξανϑὰν ῥῖψαι 
Θεσσαλὸν ὅρπακ᾽, ἐπίλογχον ἔχουσ᾽ 
ἐν χειρὶ βέλος. 

Nurse. τί ποτ᾽, ὦ τέκνον, τάδε κηραίνεις ; 
τί κυνηγεσίων καί σοι μελέτη; ... 


ἐγχριμπτόμεναι is not particularly appropriate. θωύσσω is more 
applicable to the voice of the dogs. Sophokles (Ai. 308) uses it 
in Tekmessa’s description of Aias in his woe, παίσας κάρα ᾿θώυξεν, 
but cf. O. C. 1623 φθέγμα δ᾽ ἐξαίφνης τινὸς | θώυξεν αὐτόν, ὥστε πάντας 
ὀρθίας | στῆσαι φόβῳ δείσαντας ἐξαίφνης τρίχας, and doubtless θωύσσω 
might convey the impression of ¥agerlatein on the stage. At 
any rate the speaker was nota sporting character, and the last line 
of the quotation will not be insisted on. The ὅρπηξ apparently 
formed a handy instrument for relieving the feelings uponan ox 
(Hes. Op. 468), nor dare we press the hand that holds the ἐπίλογχον 
βέλος without caution. κυνηγέσιον is frequent in Xen. Kyn. and a 
fellow-demesman of Xenophon uses the word in a passage that 
recalls at once the preamble to the Kynegetikos and its versatile 
author (Isok. vii, 45). 


Vv. 1127. ὦ δρυμὸς ὄρεος, ὅθι κυνῶν 

ὠκυπόδων μέτα ϑῆρας ἔναιρεν 

Δέκτυνναν ἀμφὶ σεμνάν, 
reminds one of Φ 485 sqq., where Hera addresses Artemis with 
the words: ἢ rou βέλτερόν ἐστι κατ᾽ οὔρεα θῆρας evaipew | ἀγροτέρας τ᾽ 
ἐλάφους ἢ κρείσσοσιν ἶφι μάχεσθαι---η. v. and cf. Bakch. 984 with 
= 488. 

Now it may be subjective criticism, but to our mind none of 

these passages strike the genuine note of the opening of Soph. 
Aias; they are artistically appropriate in a play like the Hip- 


DID EURIPIDES WRITE σκύμνων HIPP. 1276? 445 


polytos, they are a literary necessity, perhaps, but they bear the 
stamp of a four de force. 
v. 1274. θέλγει δ᾽ ἔρως, ᾧ μαινομένᾳ Kpadia 

πτανὸς ἐφορμάσῃ χρυσοφαῆς, φύσιν τ᾽ 

ὀρεσκόων σκύμνων πελαγίων θ᾽ ὅσα τε γᾷ τρέφει, 

τὰν αἰθόμενος ἅλιος δέρκεται, 

ἄνδρας τε. 
The reading is that of ν. Wilamowitz for MS σκυλάκων. But just 
as one would think twice about attempting solvere phaselon with 
Euripides to show him how, so I doubt if Euripides knew enough 
as a dog-man or cared enough as a /i/térateur to distinguish 
the two. 

Euripides (cf. Jebb, Soph. Ai. 591) is apt to echo contempo- 
raries—a frequent occurrence among Greeks and Grecians, and 
useful as a foundation upon which to build a superstructure of dates 
although the experiment is dangerous. He sometimes impreg- 
nates himself with predecessors (cf. Aisch. P. V. and Eur. Bakch.) 
He is essentially literary. Given sufficient materials and leisure 
one might show instance after instance of borrowing or acceptance 
of suggestion. Many of his hunting metaphors have a prototype 
in Homer or Aischylos—but often to his own detriment just as 
Euripides’ Cyclops has not the other side to his character as had 
the author of ¢ 447. 

Eur. I. T. 284 καὶ Bod κυναγὸς ὥς, | Πυλάδη, δέδορκας τήνδε; etc., is 
obscured, to say the least, by what follows, yet it reminds one 
somehow of the poet’s friend Sokrates. Plato has many queer 
hunting expressions, but then Sokrates is whimsical and is not 
above bewildering the object of his cross-examination by talking 
about dogs with which Glaukon was intimate, and meaning the 
while something transcendental (Rep. 459 A γάμοις re καὶ παιδοποιίαις ; 
τὸ ποῖον, ἔφη;). Plato moreover reproduces the man who would not 
venture beyond the city walls—the opening of the Parmenides 
(126 E-127 C) shows a return to more vigorous pursuits. 

A few scattered instances of metaphor and simile occur in 
Med. 1374 (see Verrall βάξιν), Hek. 1172, 1265, and in I. T. 
I. A. confines itself practically to 959 ἢ τῶν γάμων ἕκατι μυρίαι xdpat | 
θηρῶσι λέκτρον τοὐμόν, 1162 σπάνιον δὲ Onpevp’ ἀνδρὶ τοιαύτην λαβεῖν] 
δάμαρτα, reminding one of Hel. 63 θηρᾷ γαμεῖν με, Hel. 314, 545, 
where the occurrence of θηρᾶν, etc. (in isolated instances) shows 
perhaps the ‘dominant note’ of Theoklymenos. 


446 HENRY N. SANDERS. 


On the other hand the Bakchai, written in Macedonia at the 
close of the poet’s life and exhibited in Athens about 406, is full 
enough of reminiscences of the chase. 

Whatever critical sentiments we may have as to the author- 
ship of the Kynegetikos, this much may be said: the nature of 
the dog as the product of the fancier, with a fancy price and a 
fancy utility, compels the writer on the subject, if it be congenial 
to him, if he be a sympathetic writer, to adopt a peculiar style 
that will strike the uninitiated of any age as sophistic. This is all 
the sophistry that there is inthe Kynegetikos. The author knew 
his subject at first hand even if as anamateur he is at fault at times 
(probably in the time a bitch carries her puppies) and passes on a 
story that would grace a Forster’s hut, yet the list of appropriate 
names (7, 5) does not touch on literature or mythology, although 
both might suggest good, sharp names fora hound. As to the 
age at which the author wrote it—suppose the author of the 
Kynegetikos to have become acquainted with Sokrates at 15, he 
would feel decidedly old at 30 and would take pains to dedicate 
his treatise to the young; still on the other hand an old man with 
a hobby may write as youthfully as an Indian officer retired on 
half-pay and golf-links. If Attica was depleted of hares during 
the Peloponnesian war, Macedonia (Kyn. 11) afforded plenty 
of game not so far beyond its borders (5th century), the main 
difficulty being to find a man (ἀρκυωρός) who spoke Greek (Kyn. 
2, 3) and not a wretched patois. The point of view in τὸν Kerrov 
τὸν ὑπὲρ τῆς Μακεδονίας (II, I) is interesting as a date— 


Bakch. 337. ὁρᾷς τὸν ᾿Ακταίωνος ἄθλιον μόρον, 
ὃν ὠμόσιτοι σκύλακες ἃς ἐθρέψατο 
διεσπάσαντο κρείσσον᾽ ἐν κυναγίαις 
᾿Αρτέμιδος εἶναι κομπάσαντ᾽ ἐν ὀργάσιν 


are verses which prepare for the dominant note in the play in its 
connection with mythology, with the theatre of action, with 
possibly ever so slight a touch of real εἰρωνεία, and épydow sounds 
the keynote to Kyn. 9, 2. σκύλακες has its sporting gender. 
Passing over 434, 435 ἄκρανθ᾽ ὡρμήσαμεν would be interesting 
if one could banish from mind Aisch. Cho. 882 ἄκραντα βάζω, where 
βάζω is the language of the dog but ἄκραντα not necessarily (cf. 
Onp for θηρίον). 732 ἕπεσθέ μοι is all right if μοι is ethic (Kyn. 
6,19). 848 εἰς βόλον καθίσταται perhaps echoes literary antecedents. 


DID EURIPIDES WRITE σκύμνων HIPP. 12762 447 


v. 862 (cf. El. 859). ap’ ἐν παννυχίοις χοροῖς 
θήσω ποτὲ λευκὸν 
πόδ᾽ ἀναβακχεύουσα, δέραν 
εἰς αἰθέρα δροσερὸν 
ῥίπτουσ᾽, ὡς νεβρὸς χλοεραῖς 
ἐμπαίζουσα λείμακος ἡδοναῖς, 
ἡνίκ᾽ ἂν φοβερὰν φύγῃ 

θήραν ἔξω φυλακᾶς 

εὐπλέκτων ὑπὲρ ἀρκύων, 
θωύσσων δὲ κυναγέτας 
συντείνῃ δρόμημα κυνῶν " 
μόχθοις τ᾽ ὠκυδρόμοις ἀελ- 
λὰς θρώσκει πεδίον [or ἀέλλαις] 
παραποτάμιον, ἡδομένα 
βροτῶν ἐρημίαις 


-) 


σκιαροκόμου τ᾽ ἐν ἔρνεσιν ὕλας. 

The picture is good and very complete. If we turn to Kyn. 9, 
we may see in dua τῇ ἡμέρᾳ (3) the reason for δροσερόν, and λείμακος 
suggests ὀργάδες (2) and λειμῶνες (11). On the other hand “ Der 
Gegensatz von” ἡδοναῖς ... μόχθοις ... ἡδομένα “allein wirde 
geniigen, um Aristipp als den bekampften Gegner zu erkennen”’ 
(cf. Hermes 25, 584), but apparently it doesn’t. πεδίον παραποτάμιον: 
cf. Kyn. 9, I1, περὶ τοὺς λειμῶνας καὶ τὰ ῥεῖθρα, where ἐν τοῖς ἔργοις 
also suggests βροτῶν ἐρημίαις. But the peculiarly Euripidean trait 
comes out in ὑπὲρ ἀρκύων, for they did not use nets to catch νεβρούς 
nor ἐλάφους either, although the presence of the ἀρκυωρός (9, 6) 
possibly misled Euripides—in a passage that is an artist’s trans- 
lation of the chapter into verse. 

Of course one has to be cautious in advancing any theories, or 
rather hypotheses ; and if one insists on reading weighty philo- 
sophic and eristic matter into the Kynegetikos, one must decide 
against rhetoricians and Arrian, and not allow Xenophon or even 
a contemporary to have exhibited this somewhat naive side (sed 
quam nulla consequi affectatio possit) to his character. But 
where earthquakes are expected true caution is shown in building 
lightly. 

Pentheus is discovered couchant on the limb of a tree; so it is 
decided, v. 1142, that he must be a lion; that was enough to ex- 
asperate the most long-suffering of dogs— 

“ εἰσόκε δὴ δαίμων Ἐὐριπίδῃ εὕρετ᾽ ὄλεϑρον 
᾿Αμφιβίου στυγνῶν ἀντιάσαντι κυνῶν.᾽᾽ 


Tue McGILt Univ., MONTREAL. Henry N. SANDERS. 


he 
᾿ ἥ 

μὴ Wal 

i yan 





THE PARTICIPLE IN APOLLONIUS RHODIUS. 


In the introduction to his Grammatische Studien zu Apollonius 
Rhodius, Wien, 1878, Rzach, after speaking of the value of 
Merkel’s Prolegomena for our knowledge of the vocabulary of 
Apollonius, called attention to the lack of a systematic presenta- 
tion of the grammar of this foremost representative of the 
Alexandrian Epos. In these Studies the questions relating to 
phonology and morphology received such a treatment at Rzach’s 
hands, but even at the present time a similar presentation of the 
syntax is still wanting, although such a work would prove of value 
not only for the text, interpretation and literary appreciation of 
the poet, but also as a contribution to the Historical Syntax of the 
Greek language. Inadditionto this it may be hoped that it would 
occasionally, at least, afford glimpses of the state of the Homeric 
text before Aristarchus and of the syntactical views of his prede- 
cessors,—though from the nature of the problems the results in 
this line, and in the line of textual criticism, cannot be expected 
to prove as numerous and as valuable as those obtained from the 
study of the poet’s morphology. 

Even for detailed treatment of single chapters of Apollonius’ 
syntax, I am able to cite only Wahlin, De usu modorum apud 
Abpollonium Rhodium, Lundae, 1891, and Apollonius Rhodius, 
His Figures, Syntax, and Vocabulary, JohnsHopkins Disser- 
tation, Baltimore, 1891, by Chas. J. Goodwin, in which the syntax 
of the final, conditional and temporal sentences receives such 
consideration. The results are of interest as showing a general 
faithfulness to Homeric usage combined with “4 tendency to 
develop the more unusual forms,” and the occasional intrusion 
of later usages, sometimes, as in the case of ὄφρα with the past 
tenses of the indicative, with incongruous results. The parallelism 
of this and the similar results that will be obtained in the syntax 
of the participle with the poet’s morphological usage will be noted 
and I hope to show also cases of imitation of isolated syntactical 
phenomena that may be compared with Rzach’s observation, 
Studien, pp. 9 f, in regard to ἐργομένην and εἶργε, so that the con- 

29 


450 GEORGE MELVILLE BOLLING. 


clusion is, I believe, justifiable, that Apollonius’ knowledge and 
imitation of Homeric syntax was in general not inferior to his 
knowledge of Homeric morphology. In connection with his 
method of work two other questions may be raised, whether he 
did not sometimes, when conveniently possible, avoid constructions 
not infrequent in Homer because they happened to coincide with 
later prose usage, and whether, on the other hand, he did not 
sometimes employ constructions borrowed from lyric or tragic 
poetry. Apparent examples of both of these phenomena will be 
cited below, though the passing of final judgment on their cause 
must be reserved until we have a complete syntax of Apollonius’ 
work, 

In comparing the usage of the participle in Apollonius with that 
of Homer we may begin with the consideration of the frequency 
of its occurrence as indicative of its stylistic effect. The facts for 
Apollonius are shown in the following table: 


No. of Lines. No. of Part. Part. per 100 Lines. 
Narr. Speech. Total. Narr. Speech. Total. Narr. Speech, Total. 


I.) ° 3100, || 262'' 1362) 225 68 490 38.3-- 22:10 359+ 
ΤΡ 867) 420 (1288 0,539. 0 τι0᾽ ΓΑ ΚΟΥ 1501 1 27-54) 5:3 τη 
Tl, 863 542 1405 341 159 500 59.5.- 29-3- 357+ 
IV. 1323 456 1779 513 126 639 38-7-+ 27-64 35-9 











4153 1681 5834 1615 469 2084 38.8-+ 27.8 357+ 











A comparison of this table with that given for the Iliad in my 
dissertation, Zhe Participle in Hesiod, Washington, 1897, Re- 
printed from the Catholic University Bulletin, Vol. LI, pp. 42r- 
471, will show that in this respect Apollonius has varied but little 
from his great model. That this variation should be a gain in quan- 
tity is not surprising, for the use of the participle as the abridgment 
of a temporal, causal, or conditional clause, has increased in Apol- 
lonius. The typical difference, however, between the speech and 
narrative is still retained, and still more noteworthy is the uniform- 
ity of the usage throughout the whole of the Argonautica. In 
the Iliad this is not the case—the books with the highest and 
lowest percentage differing by nearly 25 per cent in the narrative 
and 15 per centinthespeeches. In contrast with this the striking 
uniformity revealed by these statistics for the different books of 
the Argonautica is the indication in one element of the aegualis 
mediocritas of his style of which Quintilian, X, 1, 54, speaks. 


THE PARTICIPLE IN APOLLONIUS RHODIUS. 451 


The difference between the Homeric and the Attic use of the 
participle may be stated in general by saying that the use of the 
participle as the conscious abridgment of a finite clause is still 
undeveloped in Homeric times, that the use of the genitive abso- 
lute is neither so frequent nor so free as in Attic Greek, and that 
the constructions of the supplementary and the adjectival participle 
are not so widely extended. A consequence and at the same time 
an indication of the non-development of the participle as the equiva- 
lent of the finite verb is seen in the difficulty of its combination 
with the negatives οὐ and μή. This state of affairs is on the whole 
reflected by Apollonius with considerable faithfulness—with how 
much consciousness it is difficult to determine. That it is not 
altogether the unconscious result of an effort to reproduce 
Homeric modes of thought and expression is shown most clearly 
by the treatment of the future participle which is confined within 
limits considerably narrower than those of Homeric usage. The 
image is, however, somewhat disturbed by Apollonius’ lack of 
appreciation of quantitative differences—note especially the Geni- 
tive Absolute—and by the intrusion of constructions of later 
development that had the merit of convenience. 

The facts upon which these statements are based are presented 
in the following sections. The order followed is that of the disser- 
tation already cited, to which I must refer for the details of 
Homeric usage. Apollonius has been cited by Merkel’s Teubner 
edition of 1897, in addition to which I have employed his large 
edition of 1854, and that of Lehrs, the Didot edition of 1862. 


ADVERSATIVE PARTICIPLE. 


The examples of the adversative participle in which no particle 
is added either to the participle or to the main verb are as follows: 
1 40,445, G02; 7037, 11 73; 247, III 54, 682; 1069, IV.) aon} 
791, 800, 1006, 1558, 1650. The adversative relation is then 
merely an inference from a contrast suggested by the context, 
and the examples are not always especially cogent. 

In the following examples the adversative relation is indicated 
by a περ that emphasizes the participle itself or one of its modi- 
fiers: I 99, 299, 896, 1199, 1340, II 27, 252, 260, 541, 1112, 
III 92, 408, 428, 584, 661, 782, 948, 1343, IV 813, 1146, 1166, 
1527, 1647, 1674, 1734. Similar examples with καί are III 719, 
IV 31, 443, 834, 1252, 1456. «ai... mep occurs I 484, 950, IV 
65; καί περ Only ITI 525; οὐδέ περ III 520. 


452 GEORGE MELVILLE BOLLING. 


In the following examples the particles that indicate the adver- 
sative relation qualify the main verb:? καὶ ὥς III 790; ἔμπης I 314, 
IV 797; ἔμπα I 792. In some of the examples cited above a 
double strengthening both of participle and main verb is found. 
So I 299 τῶν μοῖραν κατα θυμὸν ἀνιάζουσά περ ἔμπης | τλῆθι φέρειν (cf. III 
782) and IV 65 τέτλαθι δ᾽ ἔμπης | καὶ πινυτή περ ἐοῦσα (cf. 1 484). In 
ΙΝ 1146 is found ἴσχε δ᾽ ἑκάστην | αἰδὼς ἱεμένην περ ὅμως ἐπι χεῖρα 
βαλέσθαι, where G has ὁμῶς, and so in III 948 μελπομένης περ ὅμως, 
where L has ὁμῶς. 

Comparing these examples with the Homeric usage we find 
that the construction does not occur quite so frequently in Apol- 
lonius as in Homer in proportion to the bulk of the poems, nor is 
the relative distribution between speech and narrative the same. 
In Apollonius the two nearly balance—z26 of the examples occur- 
ring in the speeches and 29 in the narrative—while in the Iliad 
about two-thirds of the examples and in the Odyssey five-sixths 
are furnished by the speeches. This is partly due to the fact that 
speeches do not constitute as large a proportion of the bulk of 
the Argonautica, but in part also it is stylistic, indicating a greater 
amount of tameness in Apollonius’ speeches. 

In the more frequent employment of the particles we find a 
significant agreement with the Epic as against the Attic usage, 
the proportion being but little different from that found in the 
Odyssey. Of the different particles περ has about the same large 
predominance that is found in Homer, but cai ... περ instead of 
being equal to καί is only half as frequent. The single example 
of καί περ in imitation of the isolated Homeric example ἡ 224 isa 
syntactical phenomenon in line with Rzach’s remarks on ἐργομένην 
and εἶργε, 1. c., pp. 9 Ὄ 

The examples of ὅμως can hardly be employed to strengthen 
the reading of that particle in \ 565 as the order of words serves 
rather to recall Hesiod, Op. 20 # re καὶ ἀπάλαμόν περ ὅμως ἐπὶ ἔργον 
éyeipee—an example, to be sure, that contains no participle. Note- 
worthy also is the post-Homeric ἔμπα that our poet has borrowed 
from a lyric or a tragic source. 

As in Homer ihe present (43) and the perfect (7) largely 
predominate. The aorists are such as approach the perfect in 


1 References, however, in all cases are to the line containing the participle 
in question. 


THE PARTICIPLE IN APOLLONIUS RHODIUS. 453 


meaning (see Gildersleeve, Syrtax ὃ 248), the examples being 
θανόντι II 260, and its synonyms φθιμένῃ III 790, καταφθιμένοιο III 
782, ἀποφθίμενος IV 1527, and in addition ἀνιηθείς I 1340—all 
of which conforms closely to the Homeric usage. 


THE TEMPORAL PARTICIPLE. 


In a few cases the stress on the element of time that is apt 
to be present in the tense of the participle is rendered clear 
by a parallel or a contrasted clause. The examples are III 653 
ἤτοι ὅτ᾽ ἰθύσειεν ἔρυκέ μιν ἔνδοθεν αἰδώς" | αἰδοῖ δ᾽ ἐργομένην θρασὺς ἵμερος 
ὀτρύνεσκεν and IV 784, 1048. Sometimes sucha force is suggested 
by the concatenation of the participle and a preceding word, as in 
the example just quoted and I 447, II 449, 498. More frequently 
the presence of a word of temporal meaning—whether connected 
with the participle or the main verb—causes its temporal force to 
spread throughout the whole clause. This is plainest in those 
cases in which a particle qualifying the main verb resumes a tem- 
poral clause, as τέως I 516 (the passage, however, is emended 
by Merkel), αὐτίκα II 562, 626, τότ᾽ ἔπειτα III 898 (following 
the punctuation of Merkel’s editio maior), é I 513, IV 926, ἔτι 
νῦν I 644. To these may be added the cases in which ἔτι qualifies 
the participle itself: I 195, II 433, 709 (bis), III 134, IV 38, 
1381. Similar examples are: with ἤδη III 1384, with νέον (νεῖον) 
I 125, 1003, III 690, 1383, IV 54, with (οὔ)πω II 116, IV 678 
(bis), with τότε II 721, πάρος III 182, τὸ πρίν 1497. A similar effect 
is sometimes produced by words that may be called temporal in 
a wider sense, as by αἶψα I 15, IV 681, δηναιόν III 589, λοίσθια IV 
472, πρό (in προ ... πημανθέντας) LV 558, τὰ πρῶτα I 1212. In some 
cases also the meaning of the participle itself, e. g. ἡβήσας, is such 
as to suggest the temporal meaning. 

The treatment of peoonyi(s) calls for separate mention. In 
Homer it has, even in 7 195, only local meaning, in Apollonius it 
undoubtedly has sometimes a temporal signification. The clearest 
example is IV 579 αὐτίκα δ᾽ ἄφνω | ἴαχεν ἀνδρομέῃ ἐνοπῇ μεσσηγὺ θεόντων 
| αὐδῆεν γλαφυρῆς νηὸς δόρυ. Here the poet seems to have en- 
deavored to turn the Attic construction of μεταξύ with the partici- 
ple into Epic form. Similar examples with the present participle 
are III 307, 665 (but cf. p. 463), 723. The same use seems 
to be found with the aorist in II 337 and III 929, which is 


454 GEORGE MELVILLE BOLLING. 


perhaps no more surprising than the Attic use of dua with the 
aorist participle. However, as other juxtapositions of μεσσηγύ 
and an aorist participle (II 269, III 1316) are clearly not temporal, 
it is perhaps better to explain μεσσηγύ in II 337 as local, and refer 
it in III 929 to the general situation. Ina similar way the Attic 
construction of εὐθύς with the participle is represented in I 688 by 
πρόκα though a variant reading in L, καὶ περιτελλομένου, is also 
reported. 

As examples of the temporal participle may be cited ‘besides: 
I 160, 378, 413, 892, 906, II 385, 416, 513, 751, 915, 1098, III 
68, 264, 405, 741, 859-60, 876, 974, 992, 1079, 1383, IV 90, 358, 
1161, 1555, 1759. ΤῸ these are to be added a number of tempo- 
ral expressions cited under the head of the Genitive Absolute. 
The use of the participle as a substitute for a temporal clause 
developed early on account of the element of time in the tense 
of the participle, and examples are by no means infrequent in the 
Iliad. The chief difference between the use of Apollonius and 
that of Homer is in the particles that are employed to emphasize 
the temporal relation. 


THE CAUSAL PARTICIPLE. 


A case in which the parallel constructions unmistakably show 
the causal relation is III 620 τὸν ξεῖνον δ᾽ ἐδόκησφεν ὑφεστάμεναι τὸν 
ἄεθλον οὔτι μάλ᾽ ὁρμαίνοντα δέρος κριοῖο κομίσσαι | οὐ δέ τι τοῖο ἕκητι μετα 
πτόλιν Αἰήταο | ἐλθέμεν, ὄφρα δὲ κτλ. Other instances in which the 
poet seems to have wished his readers to infer a causal relation 
are: 1314, 840, 1161, 1179, 1252, II 235, 419, 873, III 596, IV 
51, 1401, 1565. More doubtful examples are: I 103, 1241, 1286, 
II 919, 1061, III 333. 

Of particular interest are two passages in which ἅτε (IV 1439) 
and οἷα (IV 1722) are added to the participle to mark the causal 
relation in a way that is at variance with Homeric usage. 

At this point may perhaps be mentioned the construction of the 
participle with particles expressing a comparison, which some- 
times appear to approach a causal value. In Homer are found 
ὡς, ὥς τε, ws ei, ὡς εἴ re; in Apollonius none of these occur. But 
there are found instead: as ... περ I 764 (formed probably by 
some such proportion as καίπερ: καὶ . . . περ = ὥσπερ: ds... περ); 
nore III 461, IV 1737 (ἠύτε κούρη approved of by Ziegler and read 
by Lehrs has not sufficient MS authority although in my opinion 


THE PARTICIPLE IN APOLLONIUS RHODIUS. 455 


either reading might be defended); οἷόν re II 306, IV 997; οἷά re 
I got, III 618, IV τοῦ, 318, 4oo. None of these words are 
combined in Homer with a participle. The supposed approach 
of such constructions—cf. Goodwin, Moods and Tenses ὃ 874— 
towards the causal construction arises from the fact that in some 
instances either view of the situation would be logically appropriate, 
but the particle indicates clearly which concept the writer pre- 
ferred. In a single passage Apollonius couples a participle with 
an instrumental dative. The example is II 325 (cf. T 336), and 
may be recorded here. 


THE CONDITIONAL PARTICIPLE. 


The clearest instances of this construction in Apollonius are 
those in which we have two possible contingencies expressed 
by contrasted participles. The examples are: IV 1104-5 παρ- 
θενικὴν μὲν ἐοῦσαν ἑῷ ἀπο πατρὶ κομίσσαι | ἰθύνω᾽ λέκτρον δὲ συν ἀνέρι 
πορσαίνουσαν | οὔ μιν ἑοῦ πόσιος νοσφίσσομαι, Which is repeated with 
some variation IV 1116-7; and III 614-5 δέος δέ μιν ἴσχανε 
θυμόν, | μή πως ἠὲ παρ᾽ αἶσαν ἐτώσια μειλίξαιτο | πατρὸς ἀτυζομένην ὀλοὸν 
χόλον, ἠὲ λιτῇσιν | ἑσπομένης ἀρίδηλα καὶ ἀμφαδὰ ἔργα πέλοιτο. Of a dif- 
ferent type is 1V 402 αὐτοὶ δὲ στυγερῷ κεν ὀλοίμεθα πάντες ὀλέθρῳ | 
μίξαντες dat χεῖρας. Here it is the optative with κεν that suggests 
the possibility of the resolution of the participle into a conditional 
clause. A similar suggestion is felt with greater or less force in 
I 470, II 147, 805, III 703, IV 389, σοι. In IV 1101 and 1748 
it is probably best to make the resolution as Lehrs does, but I see 
no reason for following him in the resolution of IV 113—cf. IV 
182—nor should I resolve I 765-6 nor IV 428-9, which are the 
only other examples in which I can see the slightest possibility 
of suggesting such a construction. 

There remains 11 192 οὐ δέ τις ἔτλη | μὴ καὶ λευκανίην δὲ Hoperpevos 
ἀλλ᾽ ἀπο τηλοῦ | ἑστηώς, which if conditional (οὐ δέ κεν ἔτλης would 
rather have been expected) is the only example of μή with the 
participle in Apollonius (for the possibility of another interpreta- 
tion compare p. 462). In no case is the conditional relation 
indicated by the addition of particles nor by a parallel clause 
with εἰ and the finite verb, and while the construction is much 
more frequent than in the Iliad, still, from the examples of the 
negatived construction collected by Gallaway, Ox the Use of μή 
with the Participle in Classical Greek, Baltimore, 1897, pp. 49 ff.» 


456 GEORGE MELVILLE BOLLING. 


it may easily be inferred that the poet has not allowed himself 
all the freedom of Attic usage, an inference that would be 
strengthened if a complete collection of the examples of the 
participle as the equivalent of a conditional clause were available. 


PARTICIPLE OF PURPOSE. 


The difference between the Epic and Attic use of the participle 
is clearly marked in this category. For in the early Epic the use 
of the future participle, especially in conjunction with ὡς, as a form 
of oratio obliqua is conspicuous by its absence, and the future 
participle is confined almost entirely to the use with verbs of 
motion. Itis evident from Apollonius’ work that he was conscious 
of this difference, and also evident that he limited somewhat too 
narrowly the Epic usage. For in the Argonautica the future 
participle is used onz/y with verbs of motion. Parallels for the 
adjectival use of ἐσσόμενος are wanting, nor are there any for the 
use of the future participle with so-called ellipsis of the article, 
such as Σ 200 καί re κτανέοντα κατέκτα, Ψ 379 ἐπιβησομένοισιν ἐίκτην, 
A 608 αἰεὶ βαλέοντι ἐοικώς, OY Hes. 5. 215 ἀπορρίψοντι ἐοικώς. Also 
without parallel is the use Ε 46 ΞΞΠ 242 τὸν ... wé ἵππων ἐπι- 
βησόμενον, for the form ἀλεξόμενον in IV 540 καί μιν ἔπεφνον) Μέντορες, 
ἀγραύλοισιν ἀλεξόμενον περι βουσίν, Which Lehrs translates by opztu- 
laturum, is clearly a present in IV 1486 ἀλεξόμενος κατέπεφνεν and 
in the only passage in which it occurs in Homer, ¢ 57 ἀλεξόμενοι 
μένομεν. This may be taken as an indication that Apollonius 
considered the form ἐπιβησόμενον in these passages as aoristic—a 
view which is supported by the context and against which there 
is nothing to be urged except the evidently future sense in ¥ 379. 
For Apollonius’ use of sigmatic aorists with thematic vowel, cf. 
Rzach, p. 144. 

The examples of the nominative with verbs of motion are as 
follows: with ἀντιάω IV 859; (μετα)βαίνω IV 1175, 1181; εἶμι IV 
197, 740; (μετ)ελθεῖν II 149, III 482; (εἰσαφ)ικάνω IIL 351, IV 541; 
ἱκόμην I 12, ILI 539; μετακιάθω IV 521, κίον II 1173, κεδάννυμι 11 136; 
ναυτίλλομαι III 62; στέλλομαι IL 1198. But a single example of the 


1 The examples are too numerous to warrant Monro’s remark, p. 58 n., 
that the use is ‘‘ hardly to be defended’’. It may be noted, however, that 
the examples come only from the latest parts of the Iliad, the Odyssey and 
Hesiod. 


THE PARTICIPLE IN APOLLONIUS RHODIUS. 457 


accusative occurs III 1172, where the participle is in agreement 
with the subject of an infinitive, and it would seem not impossible 
that this restriction was intentional on the part of Apollonius, 
and rests on too narrow a conception of the Homeric usage. Of 
particular interest is IV 1113 σῖγα δ᾽ ἑὸν κήρυκα καλεσσαμένη προσέειπεν | 
jow ἐπιφροσύνῃσιν ἐποτρυνέουσα μιγῆναι | Aloovidny κούρῃ, Which is in 
evident imitation of T 120 αὐτὴ δ᾽ ἀγγελέουσα Δία Κρονίωνα προσηύδα, 
the future participle being justified by the motion implied in each 
case inthe context. Different is IV 248 καὶ δὴ τὰ μέν, ὅσσα θυηλὴν | 
κούρη πορσανέουσα τιτύσκετο, μήτε τις ἵστωρ | εἴη Quae Sacrificium puella 
instructura paravit, for which should be read πορσαίνουσα. The 
reading of G IV 817, 1535, πρήσοντα, πρήσοντος, which is adopted 
by Merkel and Lehrs, also affords impossible syntax. Lehrs’ 
translation shows in the second example (the first can afford no 
indication) a present participle. Merkel at IV 817 ascribes this 
reading to the influence of Herodian; what Apollonius wrote he 
considers uncertain, perhaps πρήσσοντα the reading of L. In IV 
1535 either a present or an aorist participle is possible so that the 
simplest emendation would be πρήσαντος, but in IV 817 a present 
participle is (cf. p. 467) required. May it not be best to cut the 
knot and read πρήθοντα even though the present stem occurs only 
in the compound ἐνέπρηθον 1]. 9 580. 

There remains the question as to whether the present participle 
is ever used by Apollonius in this construction instead of the 
future. Of this no example occurs in the Iliad, nor is the sin- 
gle example in Hesiod, Op. 85, very satisfactory. A number of 
passages in Apollonius have been interpreted in this way but 
unnecessarily, e. g. IV 1471 ἔβη διζήμενος ᾿Αργώ, abserat guaesi- 
turus Argo (Lehrs); cf. II 697, IV 1150, and IV 483 τό σφιν 
παρθενικὴ τέκμαρ pertovow ἄειρεν. The fire need not bea signal for 
them to return (accessuris) but rather a beacon for which to steer 
as they return. So also IV 455, ὃ δ᾽ és λόχον Fev ᾿Ιήσων | déypevos 
“Awvprov, the lying in wait for Absyrtus is conceived not as the 
purpose (excepturus Absyrtum) but as commencing with the 
going into ambush. Two more examples remain, I 209 ἦμος 
ἔβη πυθὼ δὲ θεοπροπίας ἐρεείνων ναυτιλίης, Which should be rendered 
“in quest of oracles” rather than “ ovaculum consulturus”’, and 
703 ὄρσο pot, ᾿Ιφινόη, τοῦδ᾽ ἀνέρος ἀντιόωσα, “ext ... rogatura,” in 
which such an explanation is inadmissible. The form ἀντιόω is, 
however, used by Homer not only as a present but also asa future 


458 GEORGE MELVILLE BOLLING. 


(cf. La Roche, Eindeitung § 11, Monro ὃ 63, Vogrinz p. 133), 50 
that here and in III 879 I should assign the participle, against 
Rzach p. 153, to the future and add the example to those cited 
above. 

GENITIVE ABSOLUTE. 

This is the construction in which Apollonius varies most from 
the Homeric usage. The reason is that the difference between 
Homeric and later usage is largely a matter of quantity, and 
hence could hardly be expected to find reflection in Apollonius. 
Differences that are more easily observed, such as the exclusion 
of the future participle from this construction, are maintained and 
hence there can be no doubt that the solitary example IV 1535 
istobe emended. The reading of the scholiast φυσῶντος τοῦ ἀνέμου 
shows that he was dealing with a present participle, though to 
read πρήσαντος would be palzeographically the simplest correction. 

No less than fifty-four examples are found in the Argonautica 
that must be interpreted as genitives absolute—a number which in 
proportion to the bulk of the work is about five times as great as 
the number of occurrences in the Homeric poems. The examples 
are as follows: Of the present participle, I 314, 452, 521, 588 
(the scholiast gives a different but impossible interpretation), 651, 
688, 757, 925, 1015, 1360, II 140, 147, 153, 195, 451, 496, 571, 
753, 795, 805, 932, 963, III 864, 1385, IV 75, 241, 579, 835, 
1157, 1214, 1462, 1535, 1580; of the perfect, II 905; and of the 
aorist, I 456, 470, 513, 607, 1063, 1152, 1159, II 468, 642, 
729, III 850, 1358, 1398, IV 163, 501, 668, 926, 1401, 1406, 
1629. κεκλόμενος II 642, IV 163, has been classed here although 
the occurrence of κέκλομαι II 693 and κέκλεται I 716 renders the 
classification doubtful. 

The next question to arise is as to how those passages are to be 
interpreted in which there is more or less possibility of finding a 
word uponwhich the genitive may depend. In view of the number 
of certain examples cited above I am of the opinion that the abso- 
lute construction is to be accepted for Apollonius when the depend- 
ence is at all strained and that it is by no means certain that even 
such an example as II 1080 οἵη δὲ κλαγγὴ δήου πέλει ἐξ ὁμάδοιο | ἀνδρῶν 
xwupévov—although composed in imitation of such passages as K 
523, A 605, € 412 and κ 556, in which the genitive is undoubtedly 
dependent—was not felt by the poet to contain a genitive absolute. 
Instructive in this respect is II 107 τοῦ δ᾽ ἄσσον ἰόντος | δεξιτερῇ 


THE PARTICIPLE IN APOLLONIUS RHODIUS. 459 


σκαιῆς ὑπερ ὀφρύος ἤλασε χειρί. To make the genitive depend on 
ὀφρύος is to my mind out of the question. The notable thing is 
the ease with which an absolute construction might have been 
avoided by writing τὸν δ᾽ ἄσσον ἰόντα | κλ. And so, while in Ho- 
meric poetry in a passage like II 594 ἐπεγνάμπτοντο δὲ κῶπαι | ἠύτε 
καμπύλα τόξα, βιαζομένων ἡρώων the genitive would be dependent, I 
should consider it in Apollonius a genitive absolute as Lehrs 
translates it, and the same applies to I 934, III 782, IV 211 and 
555- In I 544 the interpretation turns upon the meaning of τεύχεα. 
Lehrs interprets it as armamenta navis, but as it is difficult to un- 
derstand how the poet could say of this στράπτε δ᾽ im’ ἠελίῳ φλογὶ 
εἴκελα, We must refer τεύχεα to the armor which each hero had on 
the seat by him (cf. 530), and the νηὸς ἰούσης is genitive absolute. 
The scholiast also refers τεύχεα to armor. Less certain are III 
709 and 805, while in I 1304 and II 572 (scholiast ὁ τοῦ κύματος 
ἀφρός) it seems best to accept the dependence of the genitive. 
In IV 1459 Lehrs rightly recognizes a genitive absolute and 
I should do the same also in I 260, II 1114 and IV 906. 

In the last four passages the subject is omitted, but indisputable 
examples of this will be cited below from Apollonius. This inter- 
pretation of IV 1459 is strengthened by the parallel II 451, and that 
of IV 906, by 1513. These last two passages, however, are of 
especial interest. Both refer to the minstrel Orpheus, IV 906 
ὄφρ᾽ ἄμυδις Krovéovros ἐπιβρομέωνται ἀκουαὶ | κρεγμῷ, I 513 τοὶ δ᾽ ἄμοτον 
λήξαντος ἔτι προύχοντο κάρηνα, and it can hardly be a mere coincidence 
that the most satisfactory example of the construction in Homer, 
Σ 606 = ὃ 19 μολπῆς ἐξάρχοντος (SC. ἀοιδοῦ), also comes from the sphere 
of music. The similar position in the verse and the fact that 
λήξαντος and ἐξάρχοντος are exact opposites strengthen this belief. 
Its importance for the Homeric text is that it confirms the state- 
ment (Athen. V, p. 181°) that the reading before Aristarchus was 
ἐξάρχοντος whereas our MSS have ἐξάρχοντες with Aristarchus. 

There remain a few passages in which there is the possibility of 
the genitive depending on the verb of the sentence. These cases 
are difficult to decide in the absence of any monograph to show 
the use of the cases in Apollonius and especially the syntactical 
influence possibly exerted upon him by the tragic poets. Thus 
in II 73 we find 4 δ᾽... ἀλύσκει | ἱεμένου φορέεσθαι ἔσω τοίχοιο κλύδωνος. 
Parallels for ἀλύσκειν τινός can be found in Soph, Ant. 488, El. 627, 
but the epic construction is the accusative. Similarly in IV 834, 


460 GEORGE MELVILLE BOLLING. 


κύματος . . . νῆα σαωσέμεναι Might be compared with Soph. Ant. 
1162 σώσας ... ἐχθρῶν ... χθόνα (cf. Phil. 919), but Homeric usage 
requires a preposition. The use of πείθομαι with the genitive is 
found in Eur. I. A. 726, is disputed at Thuc. 7, 73, 2, admitted for 
Herodotus and said to occur as a variant in K 57. It seems nec- 
essary to admit this construction in III 308, though whether it 
should be ascribed to the influence of Euripides, or taken as a 
confirmation of the age of the variant at K 57, must remain an 
open question. I should prefer to interpret III 1054 as a genitive 
absolute rather than as an ablatival genitive, though the absence 
of earlier examples of the verb ἀνασταχύω must make the interpre- 
tation doubtful.’ 

The addition of these examples raises the number of the occur- 
rences of the genitive absolute to 71, comprising 47 presents, 2 
perfects, 22 aorists. The proportion of present to aorist is prac- 
tically the same as that found in the Homeric poems—a result 
that is surprising when contrasted with the use of the tenses of the 
participle after verbs of seeing. 

The ‘last step’ in the development of the genitive absolute 
is the omission of the subject. The occurrence of this for Homer 
has been denied. The examples at best are rare, La Roche 
citing only = 606 =6 19 and A 458 (cf. also Spieker A. J. P. VI, p. 
317). The genuineness of the first example is disputed and the 
last could possibly be removed by reading σπάσσαντι, the per- 
missible hiatus being the cause of the corruption. In marked 
contrast is the use of Apollonius. Cf. I 260, 513, II 153, 451, 
642, 1114, III 709 (??), 782, 805 (??), IV 211, 579, 906, 1406, 1459. 

Other departures from early Epic usage may be noted in the 
use of the relative as the subject in II 195, and in the fact that 
the genitive absolute is somewhat more freely employed in other 
than temporal relations. For the examples compare the preceding 
sections. Noteworthy also is the use of μεσσηγύ, πρόκα, ἔτι to mark 
the temporal relation. 


1Since writing the above I have succeeded in obtaining a copy of the 
dissertation De Apollonit Rhodii casuum syntaxi comparato usu Homerico, 
Lipsiae, 1887, by Linsenbarth, which brings evidence of the influence of the 
tragic poets on Apollonius. The author would apparently consider these 
passages genitives absolute, as on p. 6 only examples of ἀλύσκειν with the 
accusative are cited, and on p. 43 only III 1127 is given as an example 
of σαοῦν with the genitive. There is no mention of πείϑομαι with the 
genitive nor of ἀνασταχύω. 


THE PARTICIPLE IN APOLLONIUS RHODIUS. 461 


At this point may be cited the examples in which a participle 
is employed in a case different from that of the pronoun with 
which it might agree, as these are in imitation of passages in which 
some would see the origin of the absolute construction. In three 
passages, III 371, 1009, IV 170, the ethical dative oi is followed 
by a genitive, and in another, II 393, we have a shift from the 
accusative subject of an infinitive to a dative depending on χρειώ 
ἐστι, aS follows: ἀλλὰ ri # pe πάλιν χρειὼ ἀλιτέσθαι |... ἐξενέποντι ; 
where Merkel, editio maior, and Lehrs follow G and the corrected 
reading of L ἐξενέποντα, the original reading of L being a compen- 
dium. Cf. p 555, Ψ 206, the passages cited there by Ameis- 
Hentze, and Monro §243 d. 

In I 396 is found an example of the so-called nominative abso- 
lute (cf. also IV 200). More interesting are the approaches to 
a dative absolute, as, for example, IV 977 νυκτὶ δ᾽ ἰούσῃ as compared 
With νυκτὸς ἰούσης, but here I 1080 and II 942 point rather to 
a temporal dative. Other examples are II 679, 728, 973, 1003, 
1231, III 166. For Homeric parallels cf. Monro ὃ 246. Of the 
accusative absolute there is an example IV 417 εἴ κέν πως κήρυκας 
ἀπερχομένους πεπίθοιμι | οἰόθεν οἷον ἐμοῖσι συναρθμῆσαι ἐπέεσσιν. As the 
construction is hardly admissible, the passage needs emendation. 
The reading of G ἀπερχομένη and the scholiast’s unfortunately free 
φιλίαν πρὸς αὐτὸν συνθεμένη Suggest a feminine participle such as 
πεμπομένη. But as that would destroy the caesura it is perhaps 
best to read κήρυκος ἀπερχομένου with but slight deviation from the 
manuscripts. 


NEGATIVE WITH THE PARTICIPLE. 


Originally the participle, like other adjectives, was negatived 
by composition with a negative prefix while the particles οὐ and 
μή, Or rather the predecessors of these particles, were employed 
only with finite verbs. The retiring of this first method of 
negation in favor of the second goes, as Delbriick has shown, 
Vergleichende Syntax 11 531, hand in hand with the approach 
of the participle towards the nature of the finite verb. That this 
process is but beginning in the early Epic poetry I have endeav- 
ored to prove, and have found in this fact one of the strongest 
reasons for believing that the participle was not felt by early 
Epic poets as an equivalent of a subordinate clause. 

I have also attempted to show that at a still earlier period the 


462 GEORGE MELVILLE BOLLING. 


particles οὐ and μή were brought into contact with the participle 
as the result of a process which we may term with Paul displace- 
ment of the syntactical distribution, so that as a corollary of this 
it must be admitted that the main verb of the sentence exerts an 
influence on the negative of the participle—an explanation which 
is sufficient (cf. Gildersleeve, A. J. P. XVIII 244) to account for 
all cases of μή with the participle in Epic poetry. 

That this should be faithfully reflected in the work of Apollo- 
nius is hardly to be expected. What is merely external—the 
rarity of examples of μή with the participle—he has grasped and 
imitated. For the construction there can be cited at most but two 
passages in the Argonautica and of these examples one is not 
satisfactory. This is 1V 1019 Ἴστω δ᾽ ἱερὸν φάος ᾿Ηελίοιο | ... μὴ 
μὲν ἐγὼν ἐθέλουσα συν ἀνδράσιν ἀλλοδαποῖσιν | κεῖθεν ἀφωρμήθην. The 
negative belongs logically to ἐθέλουσα but formally to ἀφωρμήθην, 
otherwise we should have had the adhaerescent negative.’ 

The other passage is II 192 καὶ δ᾽ ἐπι μυδαλέην ὀδμὴν χέον᾽ od δέ 
τις ἔτλη | μὴ Kat λευκανίην δὲ φορεύμενος ἀλλ᾽ ἀπο τηλοῦ  ἑστηώς. Lehrs 
renders μὴ cai... ἀλλ᾽ by nedum ... adeo, giving it the sense of 
μὴ ὅπως ... ἀλλά, for which I know no parallel, and making the 
participle supplementary. One who is willing to introduce into 
Apollonius a case of μή with the participle as the equivalent of a 
negative protasis of a conditional sentence—a construction not 
found in Homer—may interpret οὐ δέ τις ἔτλη aS an apodosis with 
κεν Omitted (for other examples cf. Goodwin p. 24, where this 
passage is not included), although it seems to me that the poet 
would rather have written in that sense οὐ δέ κεν ἔτλης. In either 
event it is intended to match the one apparently real example of μή 
with the participle in Homer, namely ὃ 684. 

Of the examples with οὐ a number might be explained away as 
due to displacement of the syntactical distribution (I 840, 1341, 
II 873, III 84, 388), others as adhaerescent (I 1217, 1219, IV 491, 
636, 983, 1564), but the number of examples that remain (I 1191 
(bis), II 990, 1026, III 839, IV 670) especially with the adversative 
(III 54, 520, 1221), the temporal (II 116, IV 676, 678), and the 
causal participles (II 235, III 620), are out of all proportion to the 


‘In T 262 ἴστω... μὴ μὲν ἐγὼ κούρῃ Βρισηίδι χεῖρ᾽ ἐπένεικα | οὔτ᾽ εὐνῆς 
πρόφασιν κεχρημένος οὔτε τευ ἄλλου the participle seems added as an after- 
thought and the force of the oath has not carried the negative μή through. 


THE PARTICIPLE IN APOLLONIUS RHODIUS. 463 


Homeric usage and show how the syntax of Apollonius has been 
influenced by the post-Homeric development of the participial 
constructions. 


THE SUPPLEMENTARY PARTICIPLE. 
Verbs of Perception. 


Subdividing according to the different senses and beginning 
with the sense of sight, we find in Apollonius the following 
instances of the supplementary participle after ὁράω and its 
compounds: 

Present: I 241, 323, 552, 633, 814, II 431, 562, 1035, III 77, 
490, 729, 827, IV 129, 185, 861, 973, 1193, 1245, 1478, 1719. 

Aorist: II 1255, III 702, 1378. 

Perfect: I 1056, II 1148, III 673, IV 1624. 

After νοέω and εἰσνοέω, which, as in Homer (cf. La Roche at M 
335), are used without any difference in meaning, are found the 
following examples of the Present: I 322, 1230, II 1261, IV 
872, and the following aoristic forms: βαλοῦσαν IV 724, λιπόντες 
I 1283, -πλόμενος III 127, 1149, κιών 1V 752. In meaning, however, 
κιών is certainly a present. Cf. especially Ap. I 391, κ 574, π 156 
and A 284, Ξ 440, @ 286. -πλόμενος is an isolated form, the aoristic 
force of which (οἴ "νυκτὶ ἐπιπλομένῃ With νυκτὶ ἰούσῃ) may not be fully 
felt, while the example in I 1283 is not a case of actual perception. 
To these examples should most probably be added III 665: τὴν δέ 
τις ἄφνω | μυρομένην μεσσηγὺς ἐπιπρομολοῦσ᾽ ἐνόησεν | δμωάων, though 
it is also possible to consider the participle as temporal and 
depending directly upon émimpopododca. After θηέομαι are found the 
following examples of the present, I 437, 438, 776; after δοκεύω 
is found the present in III 1055. 

So far there is a close parallelism with the early Epic usage. 
But no examples occur with either ἀθρέω or λεύσσω, and on the 
other hand we find no Homeric parallel to 1V 318 οἷά re θῆρας | ὁσ - 
σόμενοι πόντου μεγακήτεος ἐξανιόντας, this verb not being used in 
Homer of actual perception, nor to the examples after δέρκομαι, IV 
567, 364, 1047, which tend to show a loss of feeling for the original 
meaning of the word and the employment of it merely as synony- 
mous with épdo. In the case of παπταίνω, however, this has not 
happened and the examples of the participle after the verb, I 342, 
II 35, 611, III 924, are not to be classed as supplementary, 
though the last example approximates to such a usage. Finally 


464 GEORGE MELVILLE BOLLING. 


I 1360 of δὲ χθονὸς εἰσανέχουσαν | ἀκτὴν ἐκ κόλποιο μάλ᾽ εὐρεῖαν ἐσιδέσθαι 
 φρασσάμενοι, κώπῃσιν ἅμ᾽ ἠελίῳ ἐπέκελσαν May be interpreted as 
supplementary rather than adjectival. The closest Homeric paral- 
lels are Ψ 453 φράσσατο δ᾽ ἵππον ἀριπρεπέα προὔχοντα, Which La Roche 
correctly interprets as ἔξοχον in opposition to the προτρέχοντα of the 
Paraphrast and K 339 τὸν δὲ φράσατο προσιόντα, Where La Roche 
makes the equation φράσατο = ἐνόησεν. There is, however, no 
reason for giving up the distinction between these verbs. Cf. La 
Roche at ¥ 450. 

In Homer these verbs of seeing are used only of actual percep- 
tion. This is generally the case in Apollonius also, but we have 
one instance of νοέω denoting intellectual perception, 1 1283 τῆμος 
τούς γ᾽ ἐνόησαν ἀιδρείῃσι Aurevres—where the use of the nominative also 
is a construction that developed in post-Homeric times—and one 
example after εἰσοράω, III 77 ἅζετο δ᾽ ἀντομένην Ἥρην ἔθεν εἰσορόωσα, 
which must be classed as intellectual perception since Hera has 
expressed her request only in words and evidently without assum- 
ing the posture of a suppliant. In the use of the tenses there is 
quite a noticeable departure from the Homeric usage. The exam- 
ples of actual perception in Apollonius include 34 present, 6 
aorist and 4 perfect participles. Two out of the 6 examples of 
the aorist are the isolated -Aéyevos forms but even including these 
the present participle furnishes in round numbers four-fifths of the 
instances of this construction as against three-fourths in Homer, 
while the aorist participle instead of being nearly twice as frequent 
as the perfect is only one anda half times as frequent. That is, 
Apollonius has made no attempt to imitate the chief Homeric 
peculiarity in this construction—the frequent use of the aorist 
participle. In this respect his poem stands about on the level 
of Attic poetry, which also employs the aorist participle to a 
limited extent. Of the four examples of the aorist apart from the 
two of -πλόμενος, two are forced on the ροεί---ὑπερπτάμενον, II 1255, 
by the metrical impossibility of ὑπερπετόμενον, διαρραισθέντας, III 702, 
by the lack of a corresponding perfect, for διαρραιομένους would 
express an entirely different idea—but the third, digavra III 1378, 
is deliberately chosen as diccovra would have fitted both metre 
and sense. The passive of this construction is found in the use 
of φαίνομαι with the participle: II 690, 1044, III 819, 956, IV 1601. 

Under the verbs of finding we have the following examples: 
after εὑρίσκω II 781, ΙΝ 661, 850, 1122; after τέτμε I 908, III 249 (as 


THE PARTICIPLE IN APOLLONIUS RHODIUS. 465 


emended), 1275, 1276, IV 537; after δήω ΓΝ 1458. To these may 
be added IV 1484, with which Ρ 134 and π 254 are to be com- 
pared. The tense employed is always the present except for one 
occurrence of the perfect, III 1275. The corresponding passive 
construction, which occurs I 491 φράζεο δ᾽, ὅππως χεῖρας ἐμὰς odos 
ἐξαλέοιο, | χρειὼ θεσπίζων μεταμώνιον ἤ (=i) κεν ἁλῴης, is without 
parallel in Homer. 

As in Homer the verbs of hearing are used both of actual and 
intellectual perception. The examples of actual perception are 
all in the genitive, viz., after ἀκούω I 278 (aorist), 1260 (present) 
and after ἐπικλύω I 1240 (present); the examples of intellectual 
perception are III 352 ἀΐων ἐμέθεν μέγα δυσμενέοντας | Σαυρομάτας and 
914 ὅτ᾽ ἤδη τήνδε κασιγνήτων ἐσάκουσεν | ἠερίην Ἑκάτης ἱερὸν peta νηὸν 
ἰοῦσαν, and being both in the accusative show that in this con- 
struction Apollonius has followed the Attic distinction of cases (cf. 
Goodwin, Moods and Tenses § 886), which is at variance with 
the Homeric usage. 

Verbs of hearing or seeing may become verbs of knowing or 
learning by hearsay or by sight and still figuratively retain the 
construction of actual perception. The examples of this after 
ἀκούω, dio, εἰσοράω and νοέω have already been noted. But this 
opens the way for the analogical extension of this construction to 
a variety of verbs denoting “‘to perceive,” “το know,” ‘‘to learn,” 
“to think.” Thus we find the participle after ἐπαΐω I 1022, II 
195, after οἶδα I 135, II 66, III 175, IV 1317, after γιγνώσκω III 
972, after δαήσομαι IV 235 (following Merkel’s punctuation) and 
mpodajva | τοῦ, after δοάσσαι III 954, and after μανθάνω IV 1204. 

Of these verbs Homer employs in this construction only ἀκούω, 
οἶδα and γιγνώσκω, and in addition to these πείθομαι with which no 
participle is found in Apollonius. The construction is not only 
more frequent in Apollonius in proportion to the bulk of his 
work—15 examples occurring in the Argonautica to 12 in the 
Iliad and 21 in the Odyssey—but the use of the nominative (II 
66, III 175, ΓΝ 235, 1204) is a marked variation from Homeric 
usage, 

Also without parallel in Homer is the further extension of 
this use of the participle to verbs of “showing” IV 1415, and 
“reminding” III] 1115. In I 1086 ὀπὶ θεσπίζουσα λῆξιν ὀρινομένων 
ἀνέμων the construction is avoided in a way that may be compared 


with Homer’s ὀσσόμενον ... ἀνέμων ... κέλευθα. 
30 


466 GEORGE MELVILLE BOLLING. 


AANOANQD TYTXANQ ®OANQ. 


Noteworthy is the fact that the ordinary prose construction with 
ruyxdve—of which but a single example € 3347 291 is found in 
Homer—does not occur in Apollonius. Nor does he employ τυχών, 
which is not found in Homer, except inthe sense of “‘hitting’”’—a 
sense in which Apollonius would have had little occasion to use it. 

With λανθάνω and φθάνω the typical construction is identity of 
tense and from this type there is no real variationin Homer. This 
is also true of the examples with φθάνω in Apollonius I 1209, II 
587, [Ν᾽ 307, and of the following examples with Aavédva, II 539, 
755, III 737,779, ΓΝ 49. But in addition to these we have III 
212 ὄφρα λάθοιεν | Κόλχων μυρίον ἔθνος ἐς Aijrao κιόντες, Which shows 
a rather mechanical treatment of κιών according to its form rather 
than its meaning (contrast 7 156 οὐδ᾽ dp’ ᾿Αθήνην | λῆθεν ἀπὸ σταθμοῖο 
κιὼν κτλ.). Also in II 226 we find the aorist combined with the 
perfect participle—dAd κε ῥεῖα | αὐτὸς ἐμὸν λελάθοιμι νόον δόρποιο 
μεμηλὼς | ἢ xetvas—a combination that is unavoidable, as either the 
perfect of λανθάνω or the aorist of μέλω would be un-Homeric. 

The reverse construction occurs—always with coincidence of 
tense—in III 280 λαθών, 1143 ὑποφθάμενον, IV Ο11 προφθάμενος. 

The construction of φθάνω with the infinitive is found I 1189, IV 
1766, and although the occurrence of the construction in Classic 
Greek is considered more than doubtful by Goodwin, A/oods and 
Tenses § 903, 8, still Apollonius has a single Homeric parallel 
(11 861). 


VERBS OF BEGINNING, CONTINUING, ENDING AND ENDURING. 


Of the participle with these verbs Apollonius contains the fol- 
lowing examples: ἐξάρχομαι I 362, μίμνω III 7, ἀνύω I 600, ἐρητύω II 
251, IV 1052, κατερητύω Ι 493, KATEPUK® IV 1006 (possibly adversa- 
tive), ἔχω I 391, II 463 and 577, ἰσχάνω IV 108, λήγω 11 84, μεθίημι 
IV 797, λωφάω IV 817 (but cf. p.457), (LV 1416 is adjectival rather 
than supplementary), τλάω II 192-3 (but cf. pp. 455, 462), κάμνω IV 
13261352. Periphrasis for ἀναπνέω (cf. A 801) is found II 476 
ov δέ τις fev ἀνάπνευσις μογέοντι. Similar is IV 117 ὅθι πρῶτον 
κεκμηότα youvar ἔκαμψεν | νώτοισιν φορέων κτλ. (cf. Καὶ 201 and Ameis- 
Hentze at ν 187, Anhang). Here may be added: I 973 οὐ δέ νύ 
ma παίδεσσιν ἀγαλλόμενος ᾿ μεμόρητο (cf. 1 646) and I 1171 χεῖρες yap 


1The scholiast reads ἀγάλλεσθαι. 


THE PARTICIPLE IN APOLLONIUS RHODIUS. 467 


ἀήθεσον ἠρεμέουσαι. Worthy of notice also are I 1353, III 274, 1V 
192, in which we seem to have a contamination of this construc- 
tion and a case construction (cf. @ 475-6). 

The list of verbs used varies considerably from the Homeric 
usage, most noticeably in the avoidance of παύω for which are 
substituted (κατ)ερητύω, κατερύκω, λωφάω. The reason for this is 
undoubtedly the fact that παύω was also used in prose and that 
Apollonius was seeking for what he considered more elevated 
expressions. Notice, asa morphological parallel, the way in which 
the late Epic poets avoid πρός except when driven to it by the 
exigencies of the metre (cf. La Roche, Wiener Studien XXII, p. 
49). Except for two present-perfects λελοχημένοι III 7 and ἑστηώς 
II 193 and one instance of κιών I 391, the participles, as was to be 
expected, are all present participles. Hence II 230 οὐ κέ τις οὐδὲ 
μίνυνθα βροτῶν ἄνσχοιτο πελάσσας must be interpreted as circum- 
stantial, “ΝΟ mortal could approach and endure it even for a 
little while.” 

VERBS OF EMOTION. 

The distinction between the circumstantial and supplementary 
participle is extremely slight in verbs of this class. When either 
the participle or the principal verb in a sentence denotes a state 
of the feelings an extra-linguistic inference of a causal connection 
is in many cases rendered particularly easy, and even the cases 
of the closest fusion of verb and participle amount to hardly more 
than this (cf. Goodwin, Moods and Tenses, § 882). Still the fol- 
lowing examples may be cited here, and classified according to 
the case of the participle: 

The zominative occurs with θαμβέω I 322, 550, 11 923, II] 923, 
IV 184, 1190, 1361, ἔταφον II 1040, ἅζομαι ILI 77, γηθέω 1 436, ἰαίνομαι 
III τοῖο, ἐγγελάω III 64, ἐπεχήρατο IV 55, αἰδέομαι LV 1047, ἀνιάζεσκον 
III 1136, orvyé ΠῚ 1199, and ὀλοφύρομαι 1V 1737 if Lehrs’ reading 
nore κούρη be retained. To these should be added II 583 οἱ δ᾽ 
ἐσιδόντες | ἤμυσαν λοξοῖσι καρήασιν, and IV 170 ἐν δέ οἱ ἦτορ | χαίρει 
δερκομένης καλὸν σέχας where the participle, although in the genitive, 
qualifies the logical subject of the sentence (cf. III 1009). 

With the genitive we find only ἀθερίζω I 123, III 80, and the 
curious passage IV 690 ἀμηχανέουσα κιόντων ‘‘at a loss for their 
coming,” i. e., ‘wondering why they had come”. In II 642 ὃ δὲ 
φρένας ἔνδον ἰάνθη | κεκλομένων the participle is most probably a gen- 
itive absolute. 


468 GEORGE MELVILLE BOLLING. 


With the dative are found ἰαίνομαι {1 163, dyaioua III 1015, 
χολόομαι III 124. 

With the accusative is used ἐλεαίρω IV 736, 1306, 1421, ὀδύρομαι 
I 1066. 

Besides these are found a number of phrases with aipéo, ἔχω, 
λαμβάνω that serve as periphrases for verbs of emotion. An ex- 
ample with the genitive of the participle—unless it be considered 
a genitive absolute—is IV 555 αὐτόν που μεγαλωστὶ δεδουπότος 
᾿Αψύρτοιο | Ζῆνα θεῶν βασιλῆα χόλος λάβεν. The dative occurs in 11 775 
ἄχος δ᾽ ἕλεν ἫἩ ρακλῆι | λειπομένῳ (Changed, however, to the genitive 
by van Herwerden; cf. Rzach, Bursians Jahresbericht 38, p. 16), 
but more frequently the accusative: IV 1243 ἄχος δ᾽ ἕλεν εἰσορόωντας ; 
so I 1054, II τὸ; 410, 577, 683, III 726, IV 582, 958. 

Comparing these examples with the early Epic usage, the most 
noticeable difference is the absence of χαίρω (except in IV 170 
which is raised far above the prose level by the periphrasis) and 
τέρπομαι, Which is on a line with Apollonius’ avoidance of παύω with 
the participle. In not using ἥδομαι the poet comes closer to 
the Homeric usage which affords but a single example of this 
construction. ἀθερίζω is also not employed by Homer with the 
participle—nor is it construed with the genitive—but Apollonius 
has given to it the construction of its synonyms. On the other 
hand is to be noted the construction of the participle with αἰδέομαι, 
the earliest example of which is Kallinos 1, 3. 


THE ADJECTIVAL PARTICIPLE. 


The clearest sign of the degradation of the participle to an ad- 
jective is the formation from it of comparatives or adverbs. Of 
this we have in Apollonius only one example ἐσσυμένως, which 
occurs I 789, 1329, II 540, 896, 1174, 1248, III 840, IV 881, 1407, 
1531, 1593. Next may be mentioned some words of a quasi- 
participial nature—xpeioy IV 1007, 1067 (possibly = ¢veydis; cf. 
Brugmann, Grundr. II 404), κρείουσα IV 572, μεδέουσα 1V 915 (note 
that it is construed like a noun with the genitive), Baévppeiovra 
II 661 (cf. 797), εὐρὺ ῥέοντα 11 1264, κελαδεινὰ ῥέοντας III 532, παμφα- 
νόωσαν III 1279 (cf. 1 788), ἐυκτιμένης 1 1355, ἐυφρονέουσα III 997, 
ἀέκοντι 11 769 (cf. IV 1504)—which are used as adjectives. 

The remaining instances of the attributive participle may be 
classified into those in which the simple participle is used to qual- 
ify the noun, and those in which it is employed to form a complex 


THE PARTICIPLE IN APOLLONIUS RHODIUS. 469 


that is practically the equivalent of a compound adjective. Of 
the first class we find: Present, ai@éyevos' I 518, 1134, II 158, 
III 848, IV 598, 923, 1416, 1719, ἐπανθιόωντας II] 510, εὐδιόωντι II 
371, καταβλώσκοντι LV 227, κελάδων I 501, [LV 133, κοιρανέοντος LV 545, 
κυμαίνοντι IV 609, λαμπετόωντα II] 1361, λαμπομένῃσιν III 1355, 
μελαινομένην III 749, μυδόωσα IV 1529, vevovras I] 1067, νηπιάχοντος 
IV 866, ὀρινομένων I 1086, πλαδόωσαν 11 664, πλήθοντος LV 1768, προύχων 
I 925, IV 1581, 1624, πυθομένοισιν IV 1403, τηκομένῳ IV 1678, 
τηλεθάοντα IV 1423, τυφόμενος IV 139, 621, φλεγέθοντα BL rar, 
xvoaovras II 43. 

Perfect: ἀρηρομένην III 1335, ἀρηρώς I 1163, ZZ 7323, βεβαρηότα 1V 
1524, (éx)yeyads I 208, 233, 719, 975, III 244, 364, 1074, ἑαδότα II 
35, ἐοικότα I 1141, IIL 594, κεκμηώς II] 1340, ΙΝ 116, κεκοτηότι 1V 
1086, μεμορμένον III 1129, πεπρωμένη IL 817, τετληότες II 544, τετμηότι 
IV 156, τετρηχώς 1 1167, III 1392, rerpupéva I 1174. 

Aorist: διακρινθέντες 1 856, θανόντος 7 1350, καμόντων II 1276, 
καταφθιμένοιο II] 1272, οὐλόμενος I 802, II 153, 1187, III 436, 677, 
IV 446, 1009, 1250, 1483. 

Examples of the second class are: Present, I 34, 37, 49, 411, 
546, 935, 1076, 1191 (bis), II 739, 744, 1072, III 67, 410, 496, 
320, 627,, LV 221, 323, 788, 976. Perfect, 1.52, 76, 147, 200,\\505, 
576, 595, 787, 938, II 26, 278, 552, 818, 1226, III 832, 1290, 1294, 
IV 670, 675, 1463, 1559, 1583. 

Of the participle employed as a substantive we have the follow- 
ing examples with the article: 111174 ὁ δὲ σῖγα νόον βουλήν τ᾽ ἀπερύκων, 
III 406 τὸν Ἑλλάδι κοιρανέοντα. In II 156, III] 204, 421, ἀνήρ (cf. 
Gildersleeve, Syztax §31) takes the place ofthe article. Examples 
without the article are more frequent: mepwateraovres I 229, 941, II 
QII, ἀνεγρόμενοι II 673, ὑπέρβια μηχανόωντες III 583, ἅρμενα IV 237, 
887, παρεδριόων II 1041, διάνδιχα ναιετάοντας III 990, παρεόντας 11 1026, 
κῶας ἄγειν κριοῖο μεμαότας II 1201, πυγμαχέοντα II 785, ζωόντων (neuter) 
IV 1507, ὑποτρέσσαντος LV 1505, θανόντος IV 477, οἰχομένοισι II 842) 
φθιμένοισι 11 801, ἰοῦσιν III 917, πευθομένοις LV 263, ἐπινισσομένοισιν 
IV 281, πλώουσιν (?) LV 525, ἀντομένοισιν (ἢ) LV 1552, δαιομένοις 
(neuter) II 703, κατηφιόωντι I 461, μογέοντι I 739, ἐξενέποντι I 764, 
ἐπαΐσσοντι (neuter) II 170, περιγνάμψαντι 11 364. 


1 When several examples in different cases occur the participle is cited 
only in the nominative singular masculine, J¢alicized examples contain 
a parallel adjective. 


470 GEORGE MELVILLE BOLLING. 


Of the participle used as a predicate with various forms of εἰμί 
the following examples occur: of the aorist only ἅρμενον I 1290, 
of the perfect exyeyadres 1 952, περι. . . ἐσκληῶτες II 53, ἐληλαμένον 
II 231, βεβολημένοι 11 411, προπεφραδμένον III 1314, τετελεσμένος III 
1406, δεδαημένοι IV 1276. Ina number of other cases the copula 
is omitted and the participle itself takes the place of the finite 
verb: βεβολημένη I 262, ἐοικώς 1 764, κυλινδόμενον LV 152, ἅρμενοι 1V 
1459. 

The examples show no noteworthy departure from the Homeric 
syntax. The most interesting fact is the disappearance of many 
of the most familiar efitheta ornantia, but that is a matter that 
concerns Apollonius’ vocabulary rather than his syntax. 


CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY OF AMERICA. GEORGE MELVILLE BOLLING. 


PE J ᾿ i Ἢ Π 
εὐ eee me a  Δ  ἀ}.., 





Μή FOR οὐ BEFORE LUCIAN. 


The Greek negatives are ever a fair subject for discussion, and 
the pages following will take up once more the ᾿Αλαβανδιακὸς 
σολοικισμός as illustrated by the usage of ten authors from Polybius 
to Lucian. The μή᾽5 that have trenched on the ground of οὐ in 
these ten have for most of them been collected in various places, 
whereby the labor of him who would trace the growth of this en- 
croachment is facilitated. All these collections could not be 
obtained, so that I have in the main made my own collection, 
which has been checked wherever possible. The limited space 
precludes much discussion, but this is not necessary, inasmuch 
as the encroachments of μή on οὐ in Later Greek have been 
treated by Professor Gildersleeve in the first volume of the Amer- 
ican Journal of Philology (pp. 45-57). No one has as yet set 
forth in order the development of the encroachments of μή on οὐ 
during the centuries preceding the full growth reached in Lucian 
and the other Atticists. 

Stephanus Byzantius (5. v. ᾿Αλάβανδα) Says, ᾿Αλαβανδιακὸς σολοι- 
κισμὸς ὡς Φιλόξενος τὴν ᾿Οδύσσειαν ἐξηγούμενος, ὅταν ἡ μὴ ἀπαγόρευσις ἀντὶ 
τῆς οὐ κεῖται, ὡς τὸ μὴ δι᾽ ἐμὴν ἰότητα ἸΤοσειδάων ἐνοσίχθων. And Schmid, 
Atticismus ii 60 Anm. 78, supposes that its prevalence was due tothe 
Alabandian rhetoricians Hierocles and Menecles, whose influence 
was exerted in the first half of the century preceding the Christian 
era. Whether the credit for the name Alabandian as applied to 
this solecism is due to these two citizens of Alabanda, or not, 
Professor Gildersleeve has shown in the article already cited that 
there was always a common border-land between οὐ and μή, and 
that the latter trespasses over this border-land by the extension 
of usages at first legitimate. Brugmann, Griech. Gram.’ p. 499, 
adopts Professor Gildersleeve’s view. To refer the encroachments 
of μή on οὐ to the desire to avoid hiatus shows little appreciation 
of the problem, and does not account for the μη᾽5 that are not used 
to avoid the yawn, nor for the authors who had no regard for 
proprieties. 


472 EDWIN L. GREEN. 


The encroachments in each author will be catalogued under his 
name so as to indicate as much as possible the historical growth. 
To begin with Polybius. 


POLYBIUS. 


For Polybius the figures of Birke are used, taken from his 
dissertation De particularum μή et ov usu Polybiano Dionysiaco 
Diodoreo Straboniano, Lipsiae, 1897. Birke’s interpretation of 
an encroachment is faulty, as he often disregards the context. 

I. μή can be legitimately employed after a verb of saying, the 
utterance striving to make good the statement. And the only 
two instances of μή thus used in Polybius would be explained, were 
his Greek classic. The two are after φημί, 11 49, 7; xiv 9, 9. 
λέγω is followed by a negative only in the ὅτι οὐ construction. 
The verba cogitandt, νομίζω (xi 3, 6) and οἴομαι (i 37, 7), with μή 
are to be explained, the former by a preceding ὥστε, the latter as 
depending on δεῖν. δοκεῖ ἔμοιγε, 1X 36, 2 = νομίζω, A. J. P. i 49. 

2. Two examples of the simple relative with μή are cited 
by Birke, x 32, 9 and xviii 31, 7, the former being explained by 
a preceding δε. μή after ὅσος (1 51, 12; X 35, 2; XV1 12, 6; 34, 11) 
is not to be counted as an extension in Polybius. In general, μή 
is more and more used after ὅσος, οὐ avoided. 

3. The most certain intrusion of μή into the sphere of οὐ is with 
the participle, most widely with the causal participle, which is an 
extension of the conditional. Four such participles are cited: iv 
24, 6 (0. 0.); xii 16,9; xviii 7, 5; 30, 10. But purely causal are 
those with dre: v 48, 10 (dre μηδενὸς κωλύοντος); 67, 11; Vili 19, 
9. Oncea concessive-adversative participle takes μή, ili 26,4. In 
Xviii 31, 5 we have an adjective followed by a participle with μή, 


ψιλῶν, πρὸς δὲ τούτοις μηδὲν ἐχόντων. 
PHILODEMUS. 


Philodemus, whose /orvuzt is set at about a century after that of 
Polybius, and after the supposed influence exerted by the Alaban- 
dian rhetoricians, shows the Alabandian solecism well developed. 

1. Among the verba dicendi with μή, φημί, as might be ex- 
pected, leads the way: 7. ῥητορικῆς (cited by page of the Teubner 
text) 191; 153; 188. Others are φάσκω, m. pyr. 1 223; λέγω, ii 226, 
240; ὀνειδίζω, supplem. ii 5; ἀποδείκνυμαι, ibid. ii 2, 32. General 
oratio obligua (oratio οὐδ. without any special introductory word) 


Μή FOR οὐ BEFORE LUCIAN. 473 


with μή is found in π. μουσικῆς p. 17. The verba cogitandi are 
represented by νομίζω, m. pnt. i 22,147; δοκῶ (= videor), ibid. supp. 
ii 18, 54. 

2. Causal ὅτι μή is not employed, but ἐπειδὴ μή is found once, 
without oratio obligua, π. ῥητ. ii 264. 

3. The following three simple relatives with μή are extensions 
of μή into the domain of οὐ: π. pnt 1 79 (ὃ μή που συμβέβηκεν) ; 
326 fr. 7; supp. ii 48. 

4. The oratio obligua participle with μή is found after φαίνομαι, π. 
μουσ. 6, οὐδ᾽ ἐφαίνοντο μὴ οὖσαι. Examples of causal participles 
with μή are, π. pyr. i 302; supp. ii 31: of temporal, μὴ δυνηθέντι, 
ibid. i 342. ὡς μή with a participle deserves notice, ibid. ii 105 


fr. 12, ὡς μὴ Kar’ ἀρχ[ὰς] εὐθέως εὐδοκιμοῦντας. 
μὴ PX μ 


Dioporus SICULUS. 


1. The few years from Philodemus to Diodorus find in the latter 
a large increase in the number of μη᾽5 with an ογαΐίο obligua infini- 
tive. The verba dicendi are the following: φημί, heading the list, 
1 24, 2; 43, 4; 84, 1; 89, 2; ii 30,1 (μή interchanged with od): 
λέγω, 1 94, 43 li 16, 3: ἀποφαίνομαι, 111 18,5; ΧΙΪ 14, 2: εἶπον, Xvii 
114, 2: ἱστορῶ, li 38, 6: μυθολογῶ, iv 64, 3. Of general oratio 
obligua there are 49 examples in the first five books, iv 9, 3 (μή 
and ov interchange); 45, 3; xilig4,3,etc. The verba cogitandi are 
νομίζω, Xi 8, 43 V 24, 1; ΧΙΠ 32, 2: ἡγοῦμαι, i 78, 2: ὑπολαμβάνω, ii 26, 
9; XVi 45, 4: διαλαμβάνω, 11 50, 6: δοκῶ, XV 34, 2; xi 82, 3: ἐλπίζω, 
XV 51, 4: διαλογίζομαι, XX 12, 5. πυνθάνομαι, a verbum sentiendt, 
not seldom takes μή, xii 33, 4; 49, 2; ΧΙΧ 43, 2, etc. ὅτι μή does 
not occur. 

2. The simple relative with μή is found only in oratio obliqua 
after φημί, or λέγω: i 24, 5; 45, 3- 

3. Oratio obligua participles with μή are used after ὁρῶ, xi 17, 1; 
XV 93, 2; XVill 59, 4: θεωρῶ, xiii 78, 3; ΧΙΧ 64, 5: γιγνώσκω, XVili 
64, 3: οἷδα, xix 9, 2: φαίνομαι, i 39, 8. Examples of the large 
number of causal participles with μή are: i 6, 3; 8,5; 23, 4; 29, 
6; 30, 8. Concessive-adversative are ii 16, 4; 18, 1; v 69,5; 
xv 81,4. Temporal are ii 10,6; v 14,1; xi 64, 4; 84, 3. 

ὡς μή C. part. is found once (v 69, 3), but in connection with 
an infinitive after ἄτοπον, so that it does not count. 


{ie ) . 
( UNIVE 
δ fe 


474 EDWIN L. GREEN. 


Dionysius HALICARNASEUS. 


Dionysius contemporary with Diodorus does not in point of 
number approach the latter, which is perhaps due to his stricter 
Atticism. But ὅτι μή (in o. o.) and jen μή occur in the rhetorical 
works, which are re cited for convenience’ sake by het. from the 
old Tauchnitz edition. 

1. The following verba dicendz take μή with the oratio obligua 
infinitive: φημί, Autzg. ii 60, 4; 69, 3; het. v [149], 291: λέγω, 
Ant. iii 29, 1: ἀποκρίνομαι, Ant. iii 23, 1: ἀποφαίνομαι, Rhet. vi 194. 
General oratio obligua with μή occurs in Ant. v 71, 3; Vii 17, 13 1x 
28, 4. The verba cogitandi are ἡγοῦμαι, Ant. ix 54, 3: οἴομαι, 
Ant. ii 43, 4; vi 35, 2: δοκῶ, Ant. viii 67, 1: δόξαν παρέχω, Ant. 
ix 23, I: εἰκάζω, Amt. 1, 10, 2: ἔοικα, Ant. ii 56, 6: Royifoua, 
Ant. v 70, 3. Dionysius has one verbum sentiendi, πυνθάνομαι, 
Ant. v 52, 2. 

2. ὅτι μή in oratio obligua is found once in the rhetorical works 
after φιλοσοφεῖ: ὅτι μηδέν ἐστι, φιλοσοφεῖ, V [154]. 

3. The rhetorical works also contain two causal sentences intro- 
duced by ἐπεὶ μή and ἐπειδὴ μή: ἴωμεν . . . οὐκ ἐπειδὴ μὴ προσήκει «+ 
ἀλλ᾽ ἐπεὶ μὴ πάντων καιρός, Ν 225. 

4. Relative sentences with μή are not restricted to oratio obliqua, 
as in Diodorus: Azz. ii 19, 5; 26, 6; v 24, 2; het. v 61; [212]. 
One local sentence occurs in the Antiquities, 1 40, 6, ἔνθα μὴ 
τυγχάνει, and one temporal sentence in the De Lys. Lud. v 252, 
ὅτε μὴ πᾶσιν ἐξῆν. 

5. Oratio obligua participles with μή are found after ὁρῶ, Ant. vi 
40, 3: οἶδα, Vii 53, 3: εὑρίσκω, Rhet. vi 226. Causal participles 
with μή are: Ant.i 52,4; ii 59,4; ἀεί. v 88, [132]; temporal are: 
Ant. ii 42, 2; 11167, 5; adversative-concessive are: Ant. 11 71, 1; 
xi 52; Rhet. vi 176. οἷα δὴ μή is found with participles: Azz. 
ν 28, 2; 67,5; and és μὴ similarly: Azz. iii 3,4; ix 22, 6; Rhet. 
V 342. 

STRABO. 


1. Oratio obligua infinitive with μή: after verba dicendz φημί, 
129 Β; 30 D; ii 77 A (often): λέγω, vii 301 D: εἶπον, i 48 A: 
ἐλέγχω, χὶν 677 A: ὑπισχνοῦμαι, v 222 D: general orat. οὔ i 23 C; 
31 C; ii 76 B, and often. These are the verba cogitandi: νομίζω» 
i 22 B; 38 D: ὑπολαμβάνω, i 29 D: εἰκάζω, i 23 B; vi 274 C: δοκῶ, xi 
491 D—rare in comparison with the preceding class. 


Μή FOR οὐ BEFORE LUCIAN. 475 


2. Oratio obliqua ὡς μή (c. opt.) is found twice, xv 715 A (al- 
ready orat. 06.), vi 265 B (after λόγος). 

3: Μή occurs twice in causal sentences: after ἐπεί, ix 4o1 A (ovat. 
οὖ., if not corrupt); after ἐπειδή, vi 271 Ὁ. 

4. Relative sentences with μή that show an intrusion of this 
negative into the realm of οὐ are few: i 13 C; vi 286 C; xvii 730 B. 
Local sentences with μή are two in number, vi 285 B; ii 73 D 
(ὅπου μή). 

5. Participles with μή in oratio obligua are used after ὁρῶ, xvi 
785 B: οἶδα, i 28 D: κατανοῶ, xvi 741 A. Of the others with μή 
the most numerous are the causal: i 38 C; 44 D; iii 144 D, 170 
A,etc. The temporal are i 45 C; 56 B; vi 274 B, etc. Con- 
cessive-adversative are ii 104 C; 121 A; χὶ 491 D, εἴς. ὡς μή 
c. part. is found at i8 C; 28 C; 43 A. 


NEw TESTAMENT. 


The New Testament which is placed here after Strabo presents 
fewer instances of μή wrongly used than would be expected in 
the march of the development of μή᾽ 5 intrusion on οὐ, except that 
μή holds almost undisputed sway with the participle. 

1. Oratio obliqua infinitive with μή. Striking is the entire 
absence of φημὶ μή. λέγω is found three times, Matt. xxii 23; Mark 
xii 18; Acts xxiii 8. Besides these we find also ἀντιλέγω, Luke xx 
27; ἀποκρίνομαι, Luke xx 7; ἀπαρνεῖσθαι, Luke xxii 34. The verba 
cogitandi with μή are λογίζομαι, ii Cor. xi 5; καταλαμβάνω, Acts 
XXV 25. 

2. One ὅτι μή causal is found in John iii 18, ἤδη κέκριται, ὅτι μὴ πεπί- 
στευκεν. ἐπεὶ μή ποτε in Heb. ix 18 is explained as interrogative, 
Blass, Gram. d. neutest Griech. 75, 3. 

3. There are four simple relatives with μή: Titusi11; ii Pet. i 
9; i John iv 3; Col. ii 18 (which does not really count, being after 
an imperative). 

4. Oratio obliqua participles with μή are found only after θεωρῶ, 
Acts xxviii 6, and εὑρίσκω, ibid. xxiii 29. Numerous above all are 
causal participles with μή: Matt. xviii 25; xxii 25; Mark ii 4, ete. 
Examples of concessive-adversative participles with μή are John 
vii 15; Acts xiii 28; iCor. ix 20. The following μή)5 are with 
temporal participles, Luke ii 45; John vili 10; Acts xii19. Less 
defined are not a few: Luke vii 30; Acts v 7; Phil. i 28; i Pet. 


476 EDWIN L. GREEN. 


iii 6. ὡς μή Cc, part. is represented by two examples: i Cor. iv 18; 
ii Cor.x 14. Three times we have an adjective and μή -+ par- 
ticiple : δίκαιος ὧν καὶ μὴ θέλων, Matt. i το; Heb. vii 3; Jude 19. 


PLUTARCH. 


In Plutarch’s Lives there is a great increase of μή for ov. 

1. Oratio obliqgua infinitives with μή: after verba dicendi, φημί, 
Thes. 13; Rom. 29; Num. 9: λέγω, Thes. 313 Rom. 9; Pop. 6: 
ἀποκρίνομαι, Cam. 133 Tim. 6; Agis 10: εἶπον, Alc. 7: αἰτιῶμαι, 
Thes. 29; Brut. 40: ἀντεῖπον, Cam. 29: ἱστορῶ, Caes. 63: κατα- 
μέμφομαι, Pomp. 76: ἀπόφημι, Alc. 23: γράφω, Ant. 22: ἀντιφωνῶ, 
Arat. 8: ἀκούω, Galb. 13. General ovat. ob/. with μή is common: 
Thes. 23; Rom. 28; Aem. P. 19; Flam. 21. πυνθάνομαι μή is also 
found, Alc. 7; Cat. Min. 72. Plutarch yields the following verba 
sentiendi: νομίζω, Alc. 37: ἡγοῦμαι, Cras, 2: ἐλπίζω, Luc. 9; Eum. 
15: δοκῶ, Alc. 18; Cor. 33: οἴομαι, Rom. 27: καλλωπίζεσθαι, Marius 
30: εἰκάζω, Brut. 51: ἔοικα, Thes. 14: τεκμαίρομαι, Phoc. 4: λογίζομαι, 
Cleom. 25. 

2. ὅτι μή after verbs of emotion, corresponding to quod c. conj. 
in Latin: θυμοῦμαι, Dion 9: ἀγανακτῶ, Pop. 2: χαλεπαίνω, Otho 7. 
ὅτι μή after λέγω in Pomp. 36, ὅτι μή βάλλει, is due to θαυμαστόν. 

3. Two causal ὅτι py’s were found, Demet. 52; Galba 17, and 
the same number of ἐπεὶ py’s, Thes. 28; Pyr. ro. 

4. The following are instances of relative sentences with μή for 
ov: Lyc. 9; Sol. 29; Cor. 22; Tim. 36. Two local sentences are 
Peric. 28 (ὅπου); Luc. 39 (οὗ). ὅτε μή temporal-causal is found 
once, Ant. 5. 

5. Oratio obliqua participles with μή are found after these verbs: 
φαίνομαι, Thes. 27: épa, Sol. 8; Cor. 12: συνορῶ, Sol. 19: πυνθάνομαι, 
Alc. 35: καταλαμβάνω, Aem. P. 19: αἰσθάνομαι, Syl. 4: ἀνέχομαι, Syl. 
6: ἐλέγχω, Ages. 22: εὑρίσκω, Ages. 24: οἶδα, Demos. 13: γιγνώσκω, 
Demet. 49. Examples of causal participles with μή are, Thes. 15; 
Rom. 16; Lyc. 8; Numa 16, and often: of concessive-adversa- 
tive, Thes. 20; Sol. 7; Pop. 5; Alc. 10: of temporal, Pelop. 30: 
less defined, Them. 23; Lyc. 22; Alc. 16. The following parti- 
cles are found, és μή, Rom. 6; Lyc. 5; Them. 9, and often: 
ὥσπερ μή, Cor. 1; Galb. 7: dre μή, Rom. 14; Lys. 11; Luc. 11; 
Nic. 23. Plutarch also uses an adjective with μή + participle, 
Alc. 14 (παλιμβόλους . . . καὶ μηδὲν. . . ἥκοντας); Pelop. 28; 
Brut. 15. 


Μή FOR οὐ BEFORE LUCIAN. 477 


Dio CHRYSOSTOMUS. 


Dio Chrysostomus presents nearly the same condition of affairs 
in regard to μή as does Lucian. 

1. Oratio obligua infinitives with wy: after verba dicendi, 
φημί, iv 75 (page of Teubner text); vii 130; xi 180: λέγω, xi 
178; ΧΧῚ 201: ἀντιλέγω, Vi IOI: φάσκω, Vii 135: ὁμολογῶ, Xi 171: 
ἀποφαίνω, XXXi 367: καταμηνύω, lix 187: general oratio obligua, vi 
95; 98; 100, and often: after verba cogitand?, νομίζω, xxx 345: 
δοκῶ, κόμης ἐγκ. 310. 

2. ὅτι μή as an oratio obligua construction has spread much be- 
yond Plutarch’s few verbs. It is found after θαυμάζω, vi 102: 
θαυμαστόν, XXX1 382: ἄχθομαι (διότι μή), XXXViii 75: λογίζομαι, iv. 80: 
κρίνω, XV1 270: ἐνθυμοῦμαι, XXX1 357: ἐννοοῦμαι, ΧΝῚ 271: ὁμολογῶ, xlv 
121: ἐπίσταμαι, ΧΧΧῚ 357: οἶδα, ibid. 359: λέγω, lvii 182: εἰπεῖν, xxxi 
352: ἐπιδείκνυμι, XXXIV 24: ὁρῶ, ibid. 34: διαφέρει, XXXi 348: δῆλον, 
ibid. 350: φανερόν, XXXVIli 79: τοῦτο, ΧΧΧΙΪ 71, cf. xvii 275. Some 
of the above μή᾽5 are explainable by the complex (condition, im- 
perative, etc.) in which they occur. 

3. Not only causal ὅτι μή but also διότι μή is used by Dio. ὅτι μή 
causal is found in xxxi 365 (after εἰ); 376; 379; XXXiv 23: διότι μή, 
cf. ἄχθομαι (1. c.). The number of μή᾽5 for od’s in the 31st oration 
is worthy of remark. Neither ἐπεί nor ἐπειδή with μή occurs. 

4. The following places may be cited for simple relatives with 
pn: V1 IOI; 103; Xxix 326; xxxi 344. Local adverbs with μή are 
ὅποι, XXX1 374: ὅπου, XXX1 385: ἔνθα, 1xxx 288: temporal, ὁσάκις, 
xlix 145. 

5. Oratio obligua participles with μή are used after ὁρῶ, vi 102; 
Xi 175: οἶδα, XXX1 358: ἀγνοῶ, ΧΙΪ 245. For causal participles 
with μή may be cited vi 102; Χ 157; xi 209; xxvii 317; xxxii 416: 
for concessive-adversative, vii 115; xi 192; 202: for temporal, 
xxxi 350: less defined, xi 189; 198; xxxi 395. An example 
of dre py with part. is vii 132: of as μή; xxx 332. For an 
adjective with μή + participle the following passages will suffice: 
ill 44; vii 134; lvi 225. 


ARRIAN. 


Arrian has few passages in which μή has been wrongly placed 
for ov. This may perhaps be explained by the relation borne 
by his works to those of Xenophon. 


478 EDWIN L. GREEN. 


1. Oratio obligua infinitive with μή: after verba dicendt, λέγω, 
Cyn. 24, 2; ἀποκρίνομαι, Anab.i 1, 2; δηλῶ, ibid. vil 18, 2: general 
o. o. Ind. 7, 3; Anab. v 28, 3: after verba cogitandi, δοκῶ, ibid. i 
25, 5: 

2. Causal ὅτι μή occurs five times, Cyn. 36, 2; Anab. v 8, 1; vi 
6,3; 16, 1; 21, 3. ἐπειδὴ μή is found in ovat, οὖ, after φημί in 
Cyn. 36, I. 

3. Relatives with μή are represented by Anab. ii 6, 6, χῶρον, οὗ 
μήτε ἐγένετο. ἵναπερ μή is found at Anab. ν 23, 6. 

4. Once an orat. ob/. participle is used with μή, after ὁρῶ, Anab. 
vii 2,3. Concessive-adversative participles have μή in Anab. v 
14, 3; vig, 5: Others less defined are Cyn. 15, 1; 20, 2; Anab. iv 
11,9. These make the sum total of participles with μή that were 
collected as fair examples, and they form a surprisingly small 
number. Cyn. 4, 4 contains an adjective with μή + participle. 


JusTIN MARTYR. 


Justin Martyr’s misuses of μή have been collected and arranged 
by Professor Gildersleeve in the index to his edition of the 
Apologies. 

1. Oratio obligua infinitives with μή are: after verba dicendz, 
φημί, A 4, 18; 28, 16: λέγω, A 18, 22: ὑπισχνοῦμαι, A 5, 2: after 
verba cogitandi, νομίζω, B 10, 14. 

2. Oratio obliqua ὅτι μή is found after ἐγκαλῶ, A 24, 9: ἐλέγχω, B 
3, 16: ἐπίσταμαι, A 26, 35. πείθω takes os μή at A 26, 21. 

3. A simple relative with μή is found once, B 3, 5 (characteris- 
tic; see note of the editor). 

4. For the orvatio obligua participle we have A 44, 30; 63, 45, 
both after édéyyo. Causal participles with μή are A 5, 4; 29, 10; 
36, 11: concessive-adversative, A 24, 2; 28, 9; 54, 31: less de- 
fined, A 53, 36. An example of ὡς μή c. part. is A 4, 19: of an 
adjective with μή + part., A 9, 4. 


SUMMARY. 


The basis for the encroachments of μή on οὐ is to be found in 
the earliest Greek, and their growth is an extension of legitimate 
usages. The first certain extension of μή is in the direction of 
the causal and of the concessive-adversative participle. In the 
course of the next century μή has in Philodemus enlarged its 
sphere well into the oratio obligua with the infinitive (in the line 


Mi FOR οὐ BEFORE LUCIAN. 479 


of the stronger expression), into the realm of the causal sentence, 
and into that of the relative. The negatives with the participles 
have, however, remained almost as in Polybius. But in a few 
years the oratio obligua infinitives with μή have become numerous 
in Diodorus; and likewise the number of participles with μή has 
enlarged. The oratio obligua participle with μή appears for the 
first time. Μή with simple relatives is confined to oratio obligua ; 
but after Diodorus there is no longer a similar restriction. Di- 
onysius Halicarnaseus has restricted the number of p;’s for οὐ᾽ 5, 
but two causal sentences with μή are found in the Veterum Cen- 
sura, The Ars Rhetorica has an oratio obliqgua ὅτι μή. Strabo 
does not differ much from the two preceding writers, except that 
he has two ovat. οὐδ. ὡς pj's. In New Testament Greek μή has 
become the usual negative with the participle. There is one 
causal ὅτι μή. Ovratio obligua infinitives with μή are much re- 
stricted. Plutarch has made a long stride. He uses ὅτι μή after 
verbs of emotion and the causal ὅτι μή. In Dio Chrysostomus 
the categories are full, there being an increase of ὅτι wy’s. Arrian 
shows comparatively few encroachments of μή on οὐ in any line, 
and Justin Martyr, likewise, has no large number in comparison 
with his heathen contemporary Lucian. 


SoutTH CAROLINA COLLEGE. EpwIN L. GREEN. 


uh 
hy 
rea 


ἢ ἢ ἢ 


ah 


ying 
UH ay 
Nii 
Suna 
PAA 


i 
it 





A TRAGIC FRAGMENT OF ION. 


Plutarch, Comparison of Alcibiades and Coriolanus, Teubner 
Text, vol. I, p. 458, lines 21 ff., has this phrase: ἀλλ᾽ ὀργῇ χαριζόμενος, 
rap’ ἧς οὐδένα φησὶν ὁ Δίων ἀπολαβεῖν χάρι. Removing the words 
φησὶν ὁ Δίων, and then writing the phrase in direct discourse, 
we have ὀργῇ χαριζόμενος, map’ ἧς οὐδεὶς xdpw | dwéAaBe—a_trimeter, 
faulty only in that the main caesura is at the end of the third foot. 
Likely the use of the words ὀργῇ χαριζόμενος suggested to Plutarch 
the rest of the verse, of which they were the chance beginning, 
and the participle did not stand in the original verse, but some 
other form of χαρίζεσθαι, which suggested the kindred word χάριν. 
In a quotation from Menander (Stobaeus, Florilegium XX, 6), 
based on this passage, the imperative is used, and here also the 
participle does not lend itself to gnomic expression, so that it is 
probable that a negative imperative was the original form of this 
proverb: ὀργῇ xapigov μηδαμῶς, map’ ἧς χάριν | οὐδεὶς ἀπέλαβε. The 
trimeter is thus a perfect tragic verse, and but two changes have 
been made in the prose of Plutarch, χαριζόμενος having been 
transferred to the imperative and a negative added. 

This negative μηδαμῶς is thus used, after the caesura in the 
third foot, by Aeschyl. Pro. 337, Soph. Ajax, 74, Eurip. Hipp. 
611, Aristoph. Clouds, 1478, and frequently elsewhere. 

The play on the words χαρίζου and χάριν is exactly the same 
as one found in Ion, Agamemnon, Frag. 2, Nauck, κακῶν ἀπέστω 
θάνατος, ὡς ἴδῃ κακά, where the turn is On κακῶν, κακά. 

The prose fragments of Ion, found in Miiller, F. H. G., II, pp. 
44 ff., nearly all turn on some kindred word play, or contain some 
point of humor. 

The change from ὁ δ᾽ Ἴων to ὁ Δίων in Plutarch is a simple one, 
and has an exact parallel in Pollux II, 88, where the editio 
princeps (Aldine, 1502) has παρὰ Δίωνι δὲ τῷ τραγικῷ ἐν τῷ ἐπιγρα- 
φομένῳ Συνεκδημητικῷ x. t.. The phrase τῷ τραγικῷ, and the evident 
similarity of Συνεκδημητικός with TIon’s ᾿Επιδημίαι mentioned by 
Athenaeus XIII, 603 E, and also with Ion’s Πρεσβευτικός (λόγος), 
referred to by the scholiast to Aristoph. Peace 835, leave no doubt 
that the true reading in Pollux is παρὰ δ᾽ Ἴωνι τῷ τραγικῷ, and that 
δὲ before τῷ τραγικῷ is redactional. So in Plutarch ὁ δ᾽ Ἴων has 


31 


482 JOHN ADAMS SCOTT. 


been falsely read ὁ Alay. The δέ here in Plutarch needs no 
other explanation than that it was the insertion of a careless 
scribe, or due to the desire to avoid hiatus. The sentence just 
quoted from Pollux shows a δέ falsely inserted after Ἴωνι. In 
Eurip. Medea 608, in the face of the meter, two manuscripts, 
Vaticanus B and Florentinus c, have πιστὸς δ᾽ οὐκ ἔφυ. So in 
Pausanias, IIT 24, 11, the reading of the Aldine and of some of the 
older editors is τὸν δὲ ᾿Οδυσσέα πρὸς ᾿Αλκίνουν περὶ τῶν ἐν “Aidov καὶ 
ἄλλα διηγούμενον καὶ ὅτι Θησέα δὲ ἰδεῖν ἐθελήσαι κι τ. λ., Where the δὲ 
before ἰδεῖν seems to have no MS authority. Polybius II 24, 1 
has also a mistaken insertion of δέ. It seems quite reasonable, 
then, to suppose that in the passage from Plutarch δέ was similarly 
inserted between ὁ and Ἴων and then ὁ δ᾽ Ἴων became ὁ Δίων 
exactly as in Pollux, II, 88. 
It was a characteristic of the comic poets to appropriate and 
modify the verses of tragedy. Jon was so used by Aristophanes, 
Frogs, 1425, ποθεῖ μέν, ἐχθαίρει δέ, βούλεται δ᾽ ἔχειν, which passage 
according to the scholiast is founded on the following verse of 
Ion, σιγᾷ μέν, ἐχθαίρει δέ, βούλεταί γε μήν. 
Menander’s mode of adaptation of tragic passages is shown 
by comparing Aesch. Prometheus, 377, 
οὔκουν, IIpounbed, τοῦτο γιγνώσκεις ὅτι 
ψυχῆς νοσούσης εἰσὶν ἰατροὶ λόγοι; 

with Menander, Meineke, F. C. G., Vol. IV, p. 240, 
λύπης ἰατρός ἐστιν ἀνθρώποις λόγος " 
ψυχῆς γὰρ οὗτος μόνος ἔχει θελκτήρια. 

Now, if my contention as to the source of the citation in 
Plutarch is correct, Stobaeus’ quotation from Menander, 

᾿Ἐπίσχες ὀργιζόμενος. ᾿Αλλὰ βούλομαι. 

οὐδεὶς γὰρ ὀργῆς χάριν ἀπείληφεν, πάτερ, 
referred to above, would also seem to be founded on a verse from 
Ion, but Menander omits the play on χαρίζεσθαι and χάριν, which is 
the key to the verse in Ion. 

My conclusion is that as the words in Plutarch so easily form 
a tragic trimeter, they must be a poetic and not a prose quota- 
tion, that an easy restoration is 

ὀργῇ χαρίζου μηδαμῶς παρ᾽ ἧς χάριν 
οὐδεὶς ἀπέλαβε, 
and that Ion was the author. 
NorTHWESTERN UNIVERSITY. JOHN ADAMS SCOTT. 


THE METAPHOR IN AESCHYLUS: 


Of the two classes, σχήματα λέξεως and σχήματα διανοίας, into 
which the ancients divided all figures, the metaphor belongs to 
the second. It permeates all literature from the earliest to the 
most recent productions. From Homer to Tennyson poets have 
been lavish in its use. Quintilian’ calls it ¢vanslatio, and says: 
Incipiamus igitur ab eo, qui cum frequentissimus est, tum longe 
pulcherrimus, translatione dico, quae μεταφορὰ Graece vocatur. 
Volkmann says,’ Der haufigste und schonste, dabei allgemeinste 
Tropus, so dass sich die meisten iibrigen Tropen im Grunde 
genommen als Unterarten desselben betrachten lassen, ist die 
Metapher. It has been demonstrated by Bliimner*® that the 
metaphor grows from age to age with the progress of man and 
the multiplicity of his inventions. Its possibilities are practically 
unlimited. New and beautiful metaphors are constantly being 
discovered. As the original color of all figures is apt to fade, so 
many metaphors have lost the freshness of the first poetic color 
and may now be regarded as simple colorless prose. It has been 
well said that “language is a dictionary of faded metaphors.” 

The Greek rhetoricians devoted considerable time and thought 
to the study of the metaphor. Cf. Spengel, Rhetores Graeci II, 
254; III, 191, 208, 216, 228, 232, 245, 280; Aristotle, de Arte 
Poetica 1457 b. Tryphon (III, 191) has given us perhaps the best 
definition of the figure: μεταφορά ἐστι λέξις μεταφερομένη ἀπὸ τοῦ κυρίου 
ἐπὶ τὸ μὴ κύριον ἐμφάσεως ἢ ὁμοιώσεως ἕνεκα. He also divides the 
metaphor into four classes (γίνεται δὲ ἡ μεταφορὰ τετραχῶς) as follows: 
ἀπὸ ἐμψύχων ἐπὶ ἔμψυχα" ἀπὸ ἀψύχων ἐπὶ ἄἅψυχα᾽ ἀπὸ ἀψύχων ἐπὶ ἔμψυχα" 
ἀπὸ ἐμψύχων ἐπὶ ἄψυχα. Several other rhetoricians make the same 
divisions. Gregorius Corinthius (III, 217 Spengel) adds a fifth— 
ἀπὸ πράξεως ἐπὶ πρᾶξιν. The effect of metaphor is stated by Aris- 
totle, Ars Rhet. 1405 a, 8, τὸ σαφὲς καὶ τὸ ἡδὺ Kal τὸ ξενικὸν ἔχει μάλιστα 


1 Quintilian, Inst. Orat. VIII, 6, 4. 

2 Volkmann, Rhetorik der Griechen ἃ. Rémer,? p. 417. 

3 Blimner, Ueber Gleichniss ἃ. Metapher in d, Attischen Komédie, 
ΒΕ σ. 


484 JAS: TOLBES, 


ἡ μεταφορά. Cf. also Demetrius (III, 280 Spengel), αὗται (ai pera- 
φοραὶ) yap μάλιστα καὶ ἡδονὴν συμβάλλονται τοῖς λόγοις καὶ μέγεθος. 

The dominant figures in Aeschylus belong to the σχήματα 
διανοίας rather than to the σχήματα λέξεως. The proportion is 
about two to one in favor of the former. In this respect his lan- 
guage is in marked contrast with that of Sophocles where the 
σχήματα λέξεως lead in the proportion of three to two. The 
metaphor is easily the leading figure in Aeschylus. He has more 
examples of metaphor than of all the other σχήματα διανοίας 
combined. All of his σχήματα λέξεως fall short of the number 
of his metaphors. However, in spite of his excessive use of the 
metaphor it is never dull nor monotonous. The range of his 
metaphors is as wide as life itself. Illustrations are furnished 
from all experiences of man and from all of his environment; 
from the winds, from the torrent, from the sea, from the farm, 
from the ruler of the state to the lonely woman working at her 
loom; from the flowers that bloom, to the beasts that roam the 
field. 

The poet sometimes illustrates his point by introducing several 
metaphors in quick succession. A good example of this is found 
in the Sept. c. Th. 599-608, where in ten lines we find at least 
five metaphors: 


> a , dw» Ve ce a] a 
ev παντὶ πράγει 8 ἔσθ᾽ ὁμιλίας κακῆς 
κάκιον οὐδέν, καρπὸς οὐ κομιστέος " 
Bf BL , > ’ 
ἄτης ἄρουρα θάνατον ἐκκαρπίζεται. 
ἢ γὰρ ξυνεισβὰς πλοῖον εὐσεβὴς ἀνὴρ 
ναύταισι θερμοῖς ἐν πανουργίᾳ τινὶ 
ὄλωλεν ἀνδρῶν σὺν θεοπτύστῳ γένει, 

f 
ἢ ξὺν πολίταις ἀνδράσιν δίκαιος dv 
> ΄ ᾿ ~ > ia 
ἐχθροξένοις τε καὶ θεῶν ἀμνήμοσιν 
ταὐτοῦ κυρήσας ἐνδίκως ἀγρεύματος, 


πληγεὶς θεοῦ μάστιγι παγκοίνῳ ᾿δάμη. 


The farm, the sea, the state, the chase, and again the farm. 
Each figure follows closely upon the other as the scene unfolds 
itself to the poet’s vision. In such an aggregation of figures 
Aeschylus may be compared with Homer who gives us sucha 
rapid succession of similes in 1]. B 455-476. 


METAPHOR IN AESCHYLUS. 485 


The metaphors in Aeschylus may be divided into the following 
classes: A. Man. B. Nature. The metaphors from man, his 
occupations and environment, easily lead in number, there being 
a total of 450. These may be divided as follows: 

I. The human body. In this division the Prom. leads with the 
Agam. a close second. The best examples are the following: 
Prom. 64 ἀδαμαντίνου viv σφηνὸς αὐθάδη γνάθον. 368 ποταμοὶ πυρὸς 
δάπτοντες ἀγρίαις γνάθοις. Agam. 306 φλογὸς μέγαν πώγωνα. 
Choeph. 854 οὔτοι φρέν᾽ ἂν κλέψειεν ὠμματωμένην. Choeph. 934 
ὀφθαλμὸν οἴκων μὴ πανώλεθρον πεσεῖν. 

Il. The conditions and acts of body and mind. This division 
outnumbers the preceding almost three to one. Here again the 
Prom. leads with the Agam. and Sept. c. Th. not far behind. 
First among these must be placed the well-known ποντίων re 
κυμάτων | ἀνήριθμον γέλασμα (Prom. 90). Inthe Prom. Aeschylus 
is especially fond of using νόσος and νόσημα metaphorically. Cf. 
Prom. 225 ἔνεστι... τοῦτο τῇ τυραννίδι | νόσημα, and his especially 
bold θαλασσίαν re γῆς τινάκτειραν νόσον (Prom. 924), as if poor old 
mother earth were subject to chills. Another good example is 
Prom. 685 νόσημα yap | αἴσχιστον εἶναί φημι συνθέτους λόγους. One 
of the best of his ‘‘ pugnacious”’ metaphors is found in Prom. 881 
xpadia δὲ φόβῳ φρένα λακτίζει. Among other bold metaphors 
of this class may be mentioned: Sefz. c. 7h. 155 αἰθὴρ ἐπιμαίνεται. 
Id. 247 στένει πόλισμα (cf. gor). Suppl. 770 φιλεῖ | ὠδῖνα τίκτειν 
νύξ. Agam. 276 ἀλλ᾽ ἦ σ᾽’ ἐπίανέν τις ἄπτερος φάτις; Id. 640 πόλει 
μὲν ἕλκος ἕν τὸ δήμιον τυχεῖν. Choeph. 167 ὀρχεῖται δὲ καρδία φόβῳ. 
197 τόνδ᾽ ἀποπτύσαι πλόκον. Lumen. 280 βρίζει γὰρ αἷμα καὶ 
μαραίνεται χερός. 

Ill. Aaternal circumstances, clothing, etc. There are com- 
paratively few of these but they are generally very striking. One 
of the best is the much admired ‘‘star-bespangled’ night,”— 
ποικιλείμων νύξ (Prom. 24). When the chorus in the Fersae fear 
for the safety of the Persian army Aeschylus wraps their heart 
with a black tuntc—perayyxirav φρὴν ἀμύσσεται φόβῳ (Pers. 114). 
Another bold metaphor is found in Pers. 815 κοὐδέπω κακῶν κρηπὶς 
ὕπεστιν. Cf. also Suppl. 95 ἐλπίδων ad’ ὑψιπύργων, Agam. 839 
ὁμιλίας κάτοπτρον, εἴδωλον σκιᾶς, Choeph. 811 <éx> δνοφερᾶς 


’ 
καλύπτρας. 


ΤΠ the classification of the metaphors of Aeschylus Bluemner has been 
followed as far as practicable. 


486 JAS. ΠΕΣ: 


IV. Family and daily life. These are not so numerous as one 
would expect in Aeschylus. The most of them are found in the 
Prom. and the Agam. He is especially fond of using μήτηρ ina 
metaphorical sense, as Prom. 90 παμμῆτόρ τε γῆ, Id. 301 τὴν 
σιδηρομήτορα | ἐλθεῖν ἐς αἶαν, Id. 461 μνήμην ἁπάντων, μουσομήτορ᾽ 
ἐργάνην. Obedience to rule (πειθαρχία) is the mother of well-being 
(τῆς εὐπραξίας | μήτηρ), Sept. c. Th. 224-5. A very bold metaphor 
is found in Pers. 614 where the poet says the pure wine is from a 
wild mother (μητρὸς ἀγρίας ἄπο). He gives the traditional step- 
mother a hard rap when he says the rough Salmydessian coast is 
a stepmother of ships (μητρυιὰ νεῶν), Prom. 727. Cf. Hesiod 
Works and Days 825 ἄλλοτε μητρυιὴ πέλει ἡμέρη. When a city is 
captured plunderings are the szsters of pursuits—dpmrayai δὲ 
διαδρομᾶν ὁμαίμονες, Sept. c. Th. 351. We may not consider it 
quite ‘elegant’ to speak of smoke as the “flickering sister of 
fire” ---λιγνὺν μέλαιναν, αἰόλην πυρὸς κάσιν, Sept. c. Th. 494—but 
it is thoroughly Aeschylean. He also calls dust the szster of 
mud!—xdous πηλοῦ Evvoupos διψία κόνις, Agam. 495. When 
sad cares touch the heart they are its neighbors (γείτονες δὲ 
καρδίας | μέριμναι, Sept. c. Th. 288). Inthe Pers. (577) fish are the 
dumb children of the sea, and (618) wreaths of flowers are the 
children of earth. The beacon fire that flashed to the palace roof 
of the Atreidae was the grandson of the fire from Mount Ida 
(φάος τόδ᾽ οὐκ ἄπαππον ᾿Ιδαίου πυρός, Agam. 311). Wealth begets 
children and does not die childless (μέγαν ... ὄλβον | τεκνοῦσθαι 
μηδ᾽ ἄπαιδα θνήσκειν, Agam. 753-4). In the Aumen. 534 wanton 
insolence is the chz/d of impiety (δυσσεβίας μὲν ὕβρις τέκος). When 
Agamemnon has been murdered by his wife the poet says the 
victim filled a dow/ full of evils and drained it to the dregs 
(Agam. 1397-8). 

V. The occupations of man. 

1. The liberal arts. In this division the art of medicine occu- 
pies very nearly the whole field, with a total of 18 examples—g in 
the Agam., 6 in the Prom., and 3 inthe Choeph. The following 
are some of the best: Prom. 378 ὀργῆς νοσούσης εἰσὶν ἰατροὶ 
λόγοι. Agam. 17 ὕπνου τόδ᾽ ἀντίμολπον ἐντέμνων ἄκος. Agam. 548 
τὸ σιγᾶν φάρμακον βλάβης ἔχω. Agam. 848--50 ὅτῳ δὲ καὶ δεῖ φαρ - 
μάκων παιωνίων, ἤτοι κέαντες ἢ τεμόντες εὐφρόνως  πειρασόμεσθα πῆμ᾽ 
ἀποστρέψαι νόσου. “49α7,2. 1622--3 ἐξοχώταται φρενῶν ἰατρομάντεις - 
Choeph. 471 δώμασιν ἔμμοτον | τῶνδ᾽ ἄκος. 


METAPHOR IN AESCHYLUS. 487 


The Agam. furnishes 3 examples from art: κάρτ᾽ ἀπομούσως ἦσθα 
γεγραμμένος (801), ἄτας τάσδε θριγκώσων φίλοις (1283), βολαῖς 
ὑγρώσσων σπόγγος ὥλεσεν γραφήν (1329). Cf. also Agam. 1340, 
Choeph. 503, Hum. 50 εἶδόν ror’ ἤδη Φινέως γεγραμμένας | δεῖπνον 
φερούσας. 

2. The useful arts. This division is naturally a very numerous 
one. It easily leads the whole list of metaphors, with a total of 
about 170. The metaphors from husbandry are the most 
numerous, with those from the sea-faring man not far behind. 
Aeschylus seeks the type of natural prosperity in agriculture, and 
that of avarice in commerce. Trade and commerce come in for 
their full share of metaphors. The smith and the carpenter are 
treated alike. Even the servant, the cobbler, the weaver, and the 
executioner are not forgotten. The farm furnishes the poet with 
some of his most striking metaphors, among which may be men- 
tioned the following: Prom. 322-3 οὔκουν ... πρὸς kévt pa κῶλον ἐκ- 
reveis, Prom. 672 ἐπηνάγκαζέ vw | Διὸς χαλινὸς πρὸς βίαν πράσσειν τάδε. 
Sept. c. Th. 592 βαθεῖαν ἄλο κα διὰ φρενὸς καρπούμενος. Id. 601 ἄτης 
ἄρουρα θάνατον ἐκκαρπίζεται. Agam. 1624 πρὸς κέντρα μὴ λάκτιζε. 
Id. 1655 τάδ᾽ ἐξαμῆσαι πολλὰ δύστηνον θέρος. Choeph. 25 ὄνυχος 
ἄλοκι νεοτόμῳ. Id. 795 ζυγέντ᾽ ἐν ἅρμασιν | πημάτων. Id. 1044 μήτ᾽ 
ἐπιζευχθῇς στόμα φήμῃ πονηρᾷᾳ Aeschylus is especially fond of 
the metaphor of yoking oxen, using the noun or adjective 15 
times and the verb 8times. The sailor’s vocabulary is made to do 
good service, as we may expect. His sea metaphors are about 
as numerous as his farm metaphors. He speaks of the gods 
as ‘helmsmen’ of Olympus—oiakovépot κρατοῦσ᾽ ᾽Ολύμπου (Prom. 
149). The old familiar ‘ship of state’ is not forgotten—Sepé. c. 
Th. 2-3 ἐν πρύμνῃ πόλεως, | οἴακα νωμῶν. The young warrior 
Parthenopaeus has a ‘ fair prow’—Addornua καλλίπρῳρον (Sept. δ. 
Th. 533), as has also Iphigenia—ordpards τε καλλιπρῴρου φυλακᾷ 
κατασχεῖν | φθόγγον (Agam. 235 ff.). The poet teaches his hearers 
a moral lesson by a metaphor Sept. c. Th. 602 ff. ξυνεισβὰς πλοῖον 
εὐσεβὴς ἀνὴρ | ναύταισι θερμοῖς ἐν πανουργίᾳ τινὶ | ὄλωλεν. Cf. Horace, 
Carm. III, 2, 26 ff, and the English familiar expression ‘“‘in the 
same boat.” In the Sept. c. Th. 208 ff. Eteocles criticises the 
timid maidens, who cling to the altars in their fright, as follows: 

τί οὖν; ὁ ναύτης ἄρα μὴ ᾿ς πρῷραν φυγὼν 
πρύμνηθεν ηὗρε μηχανὴν σωτηρίας, 
νεὼς καμούσης ποντίῳ πρὸς κύματι; 


488 JAS. Χ ΒΕ, 


The Agamemnon contains some of the poet’s most striking and 
powerful metaphors. Cf. dgam. 1005 ff, 
kat πότμος εὐθυπορῶν 
ἀνδρὸς ἔπαισεν ἄφαντον ἕρμα. 
καὶ πρὸ μέν τι χρημάτων 
κτησίων ὄκνος βαλὼν 
σφενδόνας ἀπ᾽ εὐμέτρου, 
οὐκ ἔδυ πρόπας δόμος 
πημονᾶς γέμων ἄγαν, 
οὐδ᾽ ἐπόντισε σκάφος. 
Also Id. 1617 f,, 
σὺ ταῦτα φωνεῖς veptépa προσήμενος 
κώπῃ; κρατούντων τῶν ἐπὶ ζυγῷ δορός; 
Even the heart is looked upon as a ship in a storm—Choeph. 
390 ff., 
πάροιθεν δὲ πρῴρας 
δριμὺς ἄηται κραδίας 


θυμὸς ἔγκοτον στύγος. 


Commerce and trade are associated with the sea and naturally 
suggest many metaphors to the poet. In fact these are the most 
numerous in his writings after those of the farmer and the sailor. 
In the Sept. c. Zh. 545 the messenger thinks Parthenopaeus will 
wage no ‘petty peddling’ fight—Zonev οὐ καπηλεύσειν μάχην. 
In the battle of Salamis, so the Persian messenger reports, an 
‘evil genius’ (δαίμων τις) tipped the balance the wrong way— 
τάλαντα βρίσας οὐκ ἰσορρόπῳ τύχῃ (Pers. 346). Man learns by 
experience, but in this Aeschylus sees the scale descend— 
Δίκα δὲ τοῖς μὲν παθοῦσιν μαθεῖν ἐπιρρέπει (Agam. 250). The image 
of the scale occurs no less than a dozen times. It is especially 
frequent where the poet treats of the fortunes of battle. Even 
Ares likes to drive a good bargain—6 χρυσαμοιβὸς δ᾽ ἴΑρης 
σωμάτων (Agam. 437). In bitter irony Helen is called an ἄγαλμα 
πλούτου (Agam. 741) to Troy. When Clytaemnestra has mur- 
dered her husband the children are ‘sold’ as slaves—rempapévoe 
yap viv yé mas ἀλώμεθα ( Choeph. 132) says Electra in speaking of her 
condition. Similarly Orestes says διχῶς ἐπράθην dv ἐλευθέρου πατρός 
( Choeph. 915). 

VI. The pleasures of man.—This division ranks second in 
the whole list of metaphors. It yields only to the useful arts in 


METAPHOR IN AESCHYLUS. 489 


numerical order, with a total of over a hundred. The palaestra 
and the chase furnish three-fourths of the examples; races and 
dice practically all of the remainder. In metaphors from the 
palaestra the Agam. leads with ten, the Prom. following closely 
with nine. The Choeph., Eumen. and Sept. c. Th. run neck and 
neck, with the Pers. and Supp/. bringing up the rear. In the 
Prom. ἄθλον is very frequently used. An especially good Aeschy- 
lean metaphor is found in Sept. c. Th. 44τ---ἀπογυμνάζων στόμα. 
The metaphor—fapis | ποδοῖν évnkXov—in Pers. 516 may be 
compared with that in Agam. 1175—daipor ὑπερβαρὴς ἐμπί- 
τνων, both being taken from wrestling. Another from the same 
source is ’Agia... αἰνῶς ἐπὶ γόνυ κέκλιται (Pers. 930), the cry of the 
chorus after the defeat of the Persians, which may well be 
compared with Agam. 63-4 πολλὰ παλαίσματα καὶ γυιοβαρῆ | 
γόνατος κονίαισιν ἐρειπομένου. When Zeus succeeded Cronus 
the latter was thrice thrown by his victor—rptaxrijpos οἴχεται 
τυχών, Agam. 172. In the midst of her misfortune and sorrow 
Electra asks οὐκ drpiaxros dra; (Choeph. 339). Many have 
‘wrestled’ with misfortune but Aeschylus alone has thought of 
overcoming the old adversary by ‘three throws.’ When Orestes 
admits that he killed his mother the chorus of Furies claims one 
‘fall’—éy μὲν τόδ᾽ ἤδη τῶν τριῶν παλαισμάτων, Lumen. 589. 
When Orestes is on the point of avenging the death of his father, 
by slaying Aegisthus and Clytaemnestra, the poet immediately 
thinks of a wrestling ring or pugilistic encounter where one is 
matched against two—rodvde πάλην μόνος dv ἔφεδρος | δισσοῖς 
μέλλει θεῖος ᾿Ορέστης | dew, Choeph. 866 ff. 

In metaphors from the chase the Agam. again leads. The 
Prom. follows with the Zumen.a close third. In the Prom. the 
poet seems especially fond of the verb ἐπιθωύσσω, on which the 
Scholiast (Prom. 73) remarks ἡ μεταφορὰ ἀπὸ τῶν κυνηγῶν. The 
hunter's net furnishes its full share of metaphors. In the Pers. 
99 the goddess Ate beguiles men into her nets—zapacaive | βροτὸν 
eis Gpxvas”Ara. When Troy is taken the poet thinks of this city 
as caught in a net—émi Τροίας πύργοις ἔβαλες | στεγανὸν δίκτυον, ὡς 
μήτε ... ὑπερτελέσαι | μέγα δουλείας | ydyyapov, Agam. 357 ff.; cf. also 
1375-6. Cassandra’s prophetic vision sees a net—a net of Hell, 
—ri τόδε φαίνεται; 7 δίκτυόν τί γ᾽ “Adov; the net is Clytaemnestra 
---μάλ᾽ ἄρκυς ἁ ξύνευνος, the victim Agamemnon (Agam. 1115 f.; 
cf. also Choeph. 998). In the Aumen. 147-8, when Orestes has 


490 ΞΕ 


escaped from the Furies, it is the wild beast that has escaped the 
nets—cé ἀρκύων πέπτωκεν oixerai θ᾽ 6 Onp. ὕπνῳ κρατηθεῖσ᾽ ἄγραν 
ὥλεσα. Just before this Clytaemnestra tells the drowsy Furies they 
are pursuing their victim in a dream—dvap διώκεις θῆρα (Lumen. 
131). Of the more than three dozen metaphors from the chase 
in Aeschylus the above are fair samples. 

Fully half the metaphors from the race-course are found in the 
Agam. One of the finest of all the poet’s metaphors is found in 
Agam. 312-4. The beacon fires, first lighted on Mt. Ida to 
telegraph to Argos the fall of Troy, naturally suggest a torch- 
race. A lively and intensely interesting one it is. 


τοιοίδε τοί pot λαμπαδη φόρων νόμοι, 
ἄλλος παρ᾽ ἄλλου διαδοχαῖς πληρούμενοι" 


ey δ ΩΝ ἐν a ‘ “ , 
νικᾷ δ᾽ ὁ πρῶτος καὶ τελευταῖος δραμών. 


A few lines further on the voyage to Troy and return presents 
itself to the poet as a “double course”’ race in which the return 
course is yet to be run—8ci ... κάμψαι διαύλου θάτερον κῶλον 
πάλιν (Agam. 344). Again in the Agam. 1245, when the chorus 
cannot quite understand the prophecy of Cassandra they say 
they are “οὔ the track” —éx δρόμου πεσὼν τρέχω. Cf. Prom. 883, 
ἔξω δὲ δρόμου φέρομαι, and Choeph. 1022, ὥσπερ ξὺν ἵπποις ἧνι- 
οστροφῶν δρόμου | ἐξωτέρω. The same metaphor occurs also in 
Choeph. 514. 

Man’s gambling propensity is not forgotten by Aeschylus. 
The die furnishes several good metaphors. Even the gods are 
not exempt from this weakness, as we see from Sept. c. Th. 414 
ἔργον δ᾽ ἐν κύβοις ἔΑρης κρινεῖ. Inthe same play (v. 1028) Antigone 
will ‘risk a throw’ (ἀνὰ κίνδυνον βαλῶ) in burying her brother. 
In the Agam. (v. 33) when the watchman sees the beacon fire that 
announces the capture of Troy, it is a ‘lucky throw’—rpis ἐξ 
βαλούσης τῆσδέ μοι φρυκτωρίας. Another ‘lucky throw’ is found 
in Choeph. 696— Ορέστης ἦν yap εὐβόλως ἔχων. 

VII. War and law metaphors. Since Aeschylus was always 
proud of the fact that he was a ‘Marathon man,’ and seems to 
have belonged to a fighting family, we naturally expect many fine 
metaphors from war and the battlefield. Here, however, the poet 
is disappointing. We find barely two dozen metaphors from 
fighting and none of these very striking. In Prom. 371 the lava 
streams of Aetna are ‘ hot arrows ’—Tuddas ἐξαναζέσει χόλον | θερμοῖς 


METAPHOR IN AESCHYLUS. 49! 


-.. βέλεσι. In Prom. 649 Zeus smarts from the ‘arrow’ of love 
—Zeds yap ἱμέρου βέλει... τέθαλπται. In the Suppl. we find that the 
tongue can shoot—yddcoa τοξεύσασα μὴ τὰ καίρια (446), and the 
eye has its arrow—pparos θελκτήριον | τόξευμ(α) (1004). Cf. also 
Agam. 240 ἔβαλλ᾽ ἕκαστον ... ὄμματος βέλει, and 742 ὀμμάτων βέλος. 
In Agam. 1194 Cassandra asks if her words have hit the mark— 
ἥμαρτον, ἢ κυρῶ τι τοξότης τις ὥς; in the Choeph. 694 the Curse 
shoots the family of Agamemnon with unerring arrows—rééos .. . 
evoxéros. In the Aumen. 676, when the Furies have finished 
their arguments in the trial of Orestes, they have shot their last 
arrow—npiy μὲν ἤδη πᾶν τετόξευται βέλος. 

The metaphors from the legal profession are not as numerous 
as those in the preceding class. Nearly all of them are in the 
Sept. c. Th. and the Agam. In the Set. the poet is rather fond 
of the word gepéyyvos (cf. 396, 449, 470, 797). In the Agam. 
41 Menelaus is Priam’s adversary in a law suit—Mevédaos ἄναξ 
μέγας ἀντίδικος, and inv. 451 both Menelaus and Agamemnon are 
viewed as such—dAyos ἕρπει προδίκοις Arpeidas. 

B. Metaphors from the realm of Nature. Aeschylus is very 
fond of metaphors from this source. Nature stands next to man 
in suggesting metaphors to him. Many of his most powerful 
personifications also come from the realm of nature. This division 
contains nearly three hundred examples, which may be grouped 
as follows: 

I. The animal world. One-third of the whole number of ex- 
amples from nature falls into this group. The hare is the type of 
cowardice everywhere, so we may expect it as such in Aeschylus. 
The bird, especially the bird in its flight, is the symbol of swift- 
ness. The bite and snarl of the dog, the kick of the horse, the 
bellow of the bull, all furnish the poet with excellent metaphors. 

For the hare cf. Prom. 29 ὑποπτήσσων χόλον, and 960 ὑπο- 
πτήσσειν TE τοὺς νέους θεούς. The ‘bird’ metaphors are especially 
numerous. The winds have swift wings—Prom. 88 ταχύπτεροι 
πνοαί; SO also ships—Suppl. 734 νῆες ... ὠκύπτεροι. Snow has 
white wings—/Pvom. 993 λευκοπτέρῳ δὲ νιφάδι. Misery settles- 
upon one as a bird of evil omen—Pvom. 276 πημονὴ προσιζάνει, as 
does also a curse— Sept. c. Th. 695 Apa... προσιζάνει. Trouble 
is never of the same ‘ plumage ’—.SupP/. 328 πόνου δ᾽ ἴδοις ἂν οὐδαμοῦ 
ταὐτὸν πτερόν. The locks of brother and sister—Orestes and 
Electra—are of ‘like feather’ (ὁμόπτερος, Choeph. 174). The 


492 JAS. T. LEES. 


children of Agamemnon are the brood of an eagle— Choeph. 247 
ἰδοῦ δὲ γένναν εὖνιν ἀετοῦ πατρός, and a little later (v. 256) they 
are nestlings—zarpis νεοσσοὺς τούσδ᾽ ἀποφθείρας, and (v. 501) ἰδὼν 
νεοσσοὺς τούσδ᾽ ἐφημένους τάφῳ. 

Next to the bird the horse and dog suggest the most meta- 
phors to the poet. In the Eumenides the horse leaps into prom- 
inence by the poet’s frequent use of the verb καθιππάζομαι 
—Eumen. 150 δαίμονας καθιππάσω, 731 καθιππάζει pe, 779 and 809 
νόμους καθιππάσασθε. Inthe Prom. 1085 the winds ‘leap’ like 
a young horse—oxctpra δ᾽ ἀνέμων | πνεύματας The maidens in Sepé. 
c. Th. are ‘fillies’ in the eye of the ροεί---πωλικῶν θ᾽  ἑδωλίων 
ὑπερκόπῳ δορί mor ἐκλαπάξαι (454-5). In Atossa’s dream the two 
women, one in Persian the other in Dorian garb, become, in an 
extended metaphor, a pair of horses which Xerxes yokes and 
undertakes to drive. A runaway is the result, and Xerxes takes 
a fall— Pers. 189-197 

παῖς δ᾽ ἐμὸς μαθὼν 
κατεῖχε κἀπράϊνεν, ἅρμασιν δ᾽ ὕπο 
ζεύγνυσιν αὐτὼ καὶ λέπαδν᾽ ἐπ᾿ αὐχένων 
τίθησι. xn μὲν τῇδ᾽ ἐπυργοῦτο στολῇ 
ἐν ἡνίαισί τ᾽ εἶχεν εὔαρκτον στόμα, 
ἡ δ᾽ ἐσφάδαζε, καὶ χεροῖν ἔντη δίφρου 
διασπαράσσει, καὶ ξυναρπάζει βίᾳ 
ἄνευ χαλινῶν καὶ ζυγὸν θραύει μέσον. 


UY PLN “ 
πίπτει ὃ ἐμὸς παῖς. 


In the Agam. (1066) Clytaemnestra thinks that Cassandra is not 
‘broken to the bit’—yaAtvov δ᾽ οὐκ ἐπίσταται φέρει. The chorus 
immediately recommends the captive to handsel her yoke— 
καίνισον ζυγόν. 

The dog furnishes the poet with some fine metaphors. The 
bark, bite, snarl, and wagging of his tail are all pressed into ser- 
vice. The verb catyo is especially common in a metaphorical 
sense; cf. Sept. c. Th. 383 σαίνειν μόρον, Id. 704 ἂν σαίνοιμεν 
ὀλέθριον μόρον, Pers. 97 mapacaivet βροτὸν .. .ἴΑτα, and Agam. 798, 
Choeph. 194, 420. In Agam. 607 Clytaemnestra is the watch-dog 
of the royal palace—depdrov κύνα, and a little later (v. 896) she 
calls her husband the same—)éyoun’ ἂν ἄνδρα τόνδ᾽ ἐγὼ σταθμῶν κύνα. 
In Agam. 1228 Cassandra speaks of Clytaemnestra as γλῶσσα 
μισητῆς κυνός. The avenging Furies are hounds—Choeph. 924 


METAPHOR IN AESCHYLUS. 493 


φύλαξαι μητρὸς ἐγκότους κύνας, as also v. 1054. In the opening 
scene of the Persae the chorus cry aloud for their absent king 
as a dog moans for his master—yéov δ᾽ ἄνδρα βαΐζει (v. 13). Cf. 
also Agam. 449 τάδε σῖγά τις Bat Cer, 1631 νηπίοις ὑλάγμασιν, and 
1672. 

The ox furnishes Aeschylus with a powerful metaphor in dgam, 
36. The guard of the house knows a secret, which he cannot 
tell, for—an ox is on his tongue, βοῦς ἐπὶ γλώσσῃ μέγας | βέβηκεν. 
But here the poet has evidently borrowed from the language of 
the people, for the expression βοῦς ἐπὶ γλώσσῃ is designated by the 
scholiast as a παροιμία. It would be hard to find a more powerful 
figure in any writer than that in Agam. 1125-7 where Cassandra 
cries out 

aa, ἰδοὺ ἰδού" ἄπεχε τᾶς βοὸς 
τὸν ταῦρον" ἐν πέπλου νιν 
μελάγκερως λαβοῦσα μηχανήματι 


, 
τυπτει. 


Ships in a storm are at the mercy, as it were, of a mad bull— 
ai δὲ κεροτυπούμεναι Bia ... ᾧχοντ᾽ ἄφαντοι, Id. 655-7. 

In the Agam. 1224 Aegisthus is a cowardly lion—zowds φημι 
βουλεύειν τινὰ | λέοντ᾽ ἄναλκιν, While in 1258-9 he is a wolf, 
Clytaemnestra a lioness and Agamemnon a noble lion— 


σ , , , 
αὕτη δίπους λέαινα συγκοιμωμένη 


’ - » , 
λύκῳ λέοντος εὐγενοῦς ἀπουσίᾳ. 


Aeschylus also makes good use of the serpent, although not as 
often as we might expect; cf. Pers. 82 λεύσσων φονίου δέργμα δρά- 
κοντος. An arrow is a winged serpent—Aafotdca πτηνὸν ἀργηστὴν 
ὄφιν, Humen. 181. The spider is also found, dgam. 1492, 1516, 
and even the wryneck or snakebird, Pers. 989. 

Il. The vegetable world. This division does not contain as 
many metaphors as that of the animal world nor are they as 
striking. Aeschylus prefers more pugnacious nature as the source 
of his metaphors, rather than the quiet and peaceful life of the 
vegetable world. About seventy examples, however, have been 
found which may properly be classed under this head. The 
Suppl. the Agam., and the Sept. c. Th. have a strong lead in the 
number of such metaphors. The remaining plays run an even 
race, except the Persae which is slightly in the rear. Fully half 
the metaphors are from the seed, flower, and fruit. The remain- 


494. GAS Ti Vere ΩΝ 


ing examples are distributed among the other parts of the plant, 
such as root, sprout, stem, leaf, and bloom. 

The metaphor of the seed (σπέρμα) as applied to the offspring 
of the human race is so common that it has become practically one 
of the “faded metaphors.” That of the flower is of brighter 
color. The ‘flower’ of an army is common enough both in Greek 
and in English. Aeschylus is very fond of it. Other examples 
of the ‘flower’ metaphor are more striking. In Prom. 7 the 
gleam of fire is a ‘flower’—dv6os, παντέχνου πυρὸς σέλας. The color 
of the human body is a ‘flower’ or ‘bloom’—/rom. 23 χροιᾶς 
ἀμείψεις ἄνθος. Inthe Agam. 743 Helen is referred to as δηξίθυμον 
ἔρωτος ἄνθος, and in 954-5 the following words refer to Cas- 
sandra—atrn δὲ πολλῶν χρημάτων ἐξαίρετον | ἄνθος. In the Agam. 
1144 the nightingale is ‘in full bloom’ (= filled) with sorrow— 
ἀμφιθαλὴς κακοῖς. In the Choeph. 394 all-powerful, all-abounding 
Zeus is ἀμφιθαλὴς Ζεύς. Bad company is a ‘fruit’ that is not to be 
plucked— Sept. c. Th. 600 καρπὸς οὐ κομιστέος, and in 618 of the 
same play the poet says εἰ καρπός ἐστι θεσφάτοισι Aogiov. A curse 
is the ‘fruit’ of a rash tongue—Lumen. 830-I γλώσσης ματαίας μὴ 
᾿κβάλῃς ἐπὶ χθόνα | καρπόν. Old age is a withered leaf—@vAAddos 
ἤδη | κατακαρφομένης, Agam. 79. The stem is twice employed 
with telling effect in the Choeph. 204 σμικροῦ γένοιτ᾽ ἂν σπέρματος 
μέγας πυθμήν, and 260 οὔτ᾽ ἀρχικός σοι πᾶς ὅδ᾽ αὐανθεὶς πυθμὴν | 
βωμοῖς ἀρήξε. A child is a ‘sprout’—Sepi. ς. Th. 533 βλάστημα 
καλλίπρῳρον (a strangely mixed metaphor), Agam. 1281 μητροκτόνον 
φίτυμα, Lumen. 661 ἔσωσεν ἔρνος. In the Sept. ες. Th. 594 plans 
‘sprout’—SAacravet βουλεύματα. A fine Aeschylean metaphor is 
found in Pers. 821—éBpis yap ἐξανθοῦσ᾽ ἐκάρπωσε στάχυν | ἄτης. 
Cf. Agam. 756. 

In the Prom. Aetna has τοοίβ---ῥίξαισιν Αἰτναίαις ὕπο (365), 
and so has the earth itself—yééva δ᾽ ἐκ πυθμένων | αὐταῖς ῥίζαις 
πνεῦμα kpadaivo (1046). The poet can even speak of a murder 
as a flower bursting into full bloom—modtvpvacrov ἐπηνθίσω αἷμ᾽ 
ἄνιπτον, Agam. 1459. So also calamity can be ‘in blossom’— 
πάθος ἀνθεῖ, Choeph. 1009. The “irony of sorrow” can speak 
of being ‘decked with many woes’—zoNXois ἐπανθίσαντες | πόνοισι 
γενεάν, Sept. c. Th. 951. In the Suppl. 72 the chorus is plucking 
‘flowers of sorrow’—yoedva δ᾽ ἀνθεμίζομαι (schol. τὸ ἄνθος τῶν 
γόων ἀποδρέπεσθαι). The sea ‘blossoms’ with corpses—épépev 
ἀνθοῦν πέλαγος Αἰγαῖον νεκροῖς, Agam. 659. 


METAPHOR IN AESCHYLUS. 495 


III. Zhe elements. Metaphors from the elements (wind, fire, 
winter, rain, etc.) are about as numerous as those from the veg- 
etable world. In this division the Agam. is far in the lead, the 
Sept. c. Th. next, the Prom., Choeph.and Eumen. close together, 
while the Sup. falls far in the rear. The metaphors from the 
wind are by far the most numerous, as we should naturally ex- 
pect. Heat, cold, and light also come in for a fair share. 

One of the most powerful metaphors is found in the words 
of the god-possessed Cassandra, Agam. 1309 φόνον δόμοι πνέουσιν 
αἱματοσταγῆ. Cf. also Choeph. 32 κότον πνέων, 951 πνέουσ᾽ ἐν 
ἐχθροῖς κότον. Fortune is a ‘fair wind’ that gives a man a ‘fair 
sail’—érav δ᾽ 6 δαίμων εὐροῇ, πεποιθέναι | tov αὐτὸν αἰὲν ἄνεμον 
οὐριεῖν τύχης, Pers. 601-2. The Furies are asked to pursue 
Orestes, but the language is highly figurative and fairly burns 
with hot metaphors—umen. 137-139, 


) - ’ ¢ 7 
σὺ δ αἱματηρὸν πνεῦμ ἐπουρίσασα τῷ, 
« ῃ 
ἀτμῷ κατισχναίνουσα, νηδύος πυρί, 


ἕπου, μάραινε δευτέροις διώγμασιν.- 


In Sept. c. Th. 52 we find three metaphors employed with 
6vpés—iron, fire, wind—ordypddpav yap θυμὸς ἀνδρείᾳ φλέγων] 
ἔπνει. Anxious cares are ‘kindling fires’—pépipvat ζωπυροῦσι 
τάρβος, Id. 289. The heart is ‘set on fire’ by a message from 
a beacon fire—@noyds παραγγέλμασιν νέοις rupwOévra καρδίαν, Agam. 
480-481. A bold Aeschylean metaphor is the following : μητρός τε 
πληγὴν tis κατασβέσει δίκη; Sept. ¢. Th. 584. It isnot too bold for 
Aeschylus to call a rash man ‘hot’—yedd δὲ δαίμων ἐπ᾽ ἀνδρὶ θερμῷ, 
Eumen. 560. Cf. also Sept. c. Th. 603. The trumpet blast 
‘fires’ the Greek fleet at Salamis—oadmyé δ᾽ duty πάντ᾽ ἐκεῖν᾽ ἐπέ- 
preyev, Pers. 395. Fear is a ‘frost’— κακόν pe καρδίαν τι περιπίτνει 
κρύος, Sept. c. Th. 834. Even bolder is the metaphor in Agam. 
1512 πάχνᾳ κουροβόρῳ παρέξει. An attack upon Thebes is a violent 
‘snow-storm’ or perhaps a ‘blizzard’—vigddos | ὅτ᾽ ὀλοᾶς νιφο- 
μένας βρόμος ἐν πύλαις, Sept. c. Th. 213. The winter and the 
stormy sea also do their part—oivs σε χειμὼν καὶ κακῶν τρικυμία] 
ἔπεισ᾽ ἄφυκτος, Prom. 1015. Clytaemnestra would address her 
returning lord as κάλλιστον ἦμαρ εἰσιδεῖν ἐκ χείματος, | ὁδοιπόρῳ 
διψῶντι πηγαῖον ῥέος, Agam. goo-gol. The curse in the house 
of Agamemnon is a ‘storm’—éde τοι μελάθροις τοῖς βασιλείοις | τρίτος 


496 JAS. TOALEES. 


αὖ χειμὼν | πνεύσας yovias ἐτελέσθη, Choeph. 1065-67. After the 
‘storm’ of battle the ‘ship of state’ has fair sailing and has not 
sprung a leak—Sefit. c. Th. 795-6, 

πόλις δ᾽ ἐν εὐδίᾳ τε καὶ κλυδωνίου 

πολλαῖσι πληγαῖς ἄντλον οὐκ ἐδέξατο. 

The life-blood of Agamemnon is bloody ‘dew’—addct μ᾽ ἐρεμνῇ 
ψακάδι powias δρόσου, Agam. 1390. His death is a ‘shower’ of 
blood—sédorxa δ᾽ ὄμβρου κτύπον δομοσφαλῆ | τὸν aiparnpdv’ Ψψακὰς δὲ 
λήγει, dgam. 1533-4. 


UNIVERSITY OF NEBRASKA. 


Jas. T. LEEs. 


THE RELATION OF THE RHYTHM OF POETRY 
TO THAT OF THE SPOKEN LANGUAGE WITH 
ESPECIAL REFERENCE TO ANCIENT GREEK. 


It is a matter of common experience with students of Greek that 
have advanced far enough to read Homer to find that it is 
impossible for them to read a single line of Homer rhythmic- 
ally, and that this ability can be gained only by dint of hard 
practice and by a thorough understanding of the structure of the 
heroic hexameter. The difficulty is very much increased when 
the student encounters the Comic trimeter, and it may be truth- 
fully stated that many a fair Greek scholar never masters the 
trimeter. Now if the English or the German student will recall 
the experience of his boyhood, he will notice that there was no 
such chasm between prose and poetry. Though he had barely 
learned how to read he was able to render the ordinary rhythms 
of his mother-tongue correctly when attempting to read a poem. 
The most natural question, and the question that presents itself 
to everyone that has had the above experience, is this: ‘“‘ Whence 
this diversity? Why could I not read my Homer or my Sophocles 
correctly as well as my English or my German poem?” 

The traditional answer to this question is contained in the 
assertion that Greek versification is a purely artificial product 
of the poet’s brain, or, at any rate, that the fundamental 
principles of Greek rhythm are not based upon the rhythm 
of the spoken language. So, for example, Westphal, in his 
Griechische Metrik (1868), p. 2, after having on page 1 explained 
the term ictus, makes the following statement: ‘Die Setzung 
des rhythmischen Ictus auf die eine oder die andere Silbe ist 
wenigstens fiir die griechische Poesie /ediglich’ die That des 
Dichters in seiner Eigenschaft als Rhythmopoios, der in dieser 
Beziehung ganzlich fret iiber das sprachliche Material gebietet.”’ 
And Christ, in the second edition (1879) of his Metrzk der 


1 The italics in this and the following quotations are not in the originals. 


32 


498 CW. Ε. MILLER. 


Griechen und Romer, p. 3, makes use of the following language : 
“Das Natiirlichste ware daher gewesen, wenn der rhythmische 
Ictus sich mit den langen und zugleich accentuirten Sylben 
verbunden hatte; aber damit hatten sich die Dichter zu beengende 
Fesseln angelegt; 576 legten daher dem Versbau nur eines von 
jenen beiden Elementen, entweder die Quantitat oder den Accent 
zu Grunde, indem sie zugleich bei der langen aber unbetonten 
Sylbe die Tonstarke und bei der accentuirten aber kurzen Sylbe 
die Sylbendauer kiinstlich steigerten.” 

The foregoing quotations plainly indicate a belief in the possi- 
bility of a system of rhythms whose entire fabric rests upon 
purely artificial principles and such as are entirely distinct from 
those of the spoken language, and, as was pointed out above, 
this represents the traditional view with regard to Greek versifica- 
tion. The falsity of this viewseemed so self-evident to the writer 
of this article, that as early as 1884, in a paper read before the 
Johns Hopkins University Philological Association, an abstract 
of which was published in the Johns Hopkins University Circu- 
lars, No. 32 (1884), pp. 125 f., it was quietly discarded by him, 
and instead the principle was postulated “that the versification of 
a language must be in accordance with the nature of the 
language.’ But old beliefs die hard, and even in 1892, at the 
close of a distinguished career in the field of Greek rhythmic and 
metric, Westphal had apparently not gotten over the position he 
held in 1868, for on p. 42 of his Allgemeine Metrik he speaks 
thus: “Zum Begriffe des Rhythmus gehort ein Zweifaches, ein- 
mal die Gleichheit, zweitens die Hervorhebung dieser einzelnen 
Zeitabschnitte als selbstandiger Gruppen durch den Ictus... 
Beide Momente suchen sich nun an die in der Sprache vorhan- 
denen Eigenthiimlichkeiten anzuschliessen: die Ordnung in den 
aufeinander folgenden rhythmischen Zeitabschnitten an die in 
der Sprache bestehende Zeitdauer der einzelnen Sylben, der Ictus 
an den in der Sprache bestehenden Wortaccent. Aber keine 
Poesie lasst gleichzeitig der Sylbenquantitat und dem Wortaccente 
dieselbe Berechtigung zu Theil werden. Die griechische Metrik 
unterwirft lediglich die prosodische Sylbenbeschaffenheit dem 
Rhythmus und vertheilt den Ictus unabhangig von dem Wort- 
accente nach einem freien kiinstlerischen Principe, wahrend 
die altgermanische Poesie ohne Beriicksichtigung der Sylben- 
quantitat an dem Wortaccente als dem Trager des rhythmischen 


RHYTHM OF POETRY & THE SPOKEN LANGUAGE. 499 


Ictus festhalt ... Es lasst sich aber auch denken, dass eine 
Poesie die Sprache nach einem vdllig freien Principe dem 
Rhythmus unterwirft, bloss auf die Zahl der Sylben Riicksicht 
nimmt und sich weder in der Zeitdauer der rhythmischen 
Abschnitte an die Sylbenquantitat, noch im Ictus an den Wort- 
accent bindet, und somit wiirde zu dem quantitirenden und 
accentuirenden noch ein bloss sylbenzahlendes Princip der Metrik 
hinzukommen,” 

It is perfectly clear, then, that in 1892 Westphal had not 
abandoned the position he held in 1868, and as some such theory 
as this is still widely prevalent, and even at the present day the 
majority of the youth of the land are trained by their text-books, 
or teachers, or both, to look upon Greek versification as based 
upon purely artificial rules, it did not seem amiss, in view of the 
fundamental importance of the principle involved, to take up the 
question once more and treat it at greater length. 

Before proceeding with our discussion, it may be well to issue 
a word of caution. We will readily grant that it is possible to 
conceive of poetry for which the author might choose a means of 
artistic embellishment or a distinctive form other than that of 
artistic rhythm. Alliteration, rhyme, equality or symmetry of 
the length of the verses depending upon equality or symmetry of 
the number of syllables, equality or symmetry that may be only 
approximate, or some other device, might all of them, either 
singly or in combination, serve as an artificial or an artistic means 
of formally separating poetry from prose. But all such poetry 
would fall outside of the scope of the present discussion. Our 
contention is simply this—to state it a little more clearly than in 
the Circulars—that under normal conditions, when a poet employs 
an artistic form of rhythm as an artistic embellishment of his 
poetry, such rhythm is not a purely artificial and arbitrary prod- 
uct of the poet’s brain, but is based upon the rhythm of the 
spoken language, or, to put it more concisely, Under normal con- 
ditions the rhythm of poetryts based upon the rhythm of the spoken 
language. 

We may without fear of contradiction venture the statement 
that all serious art is meant by the artist to appeal to the 
aesthetic faculties of others than himself. It is true that there is 
a certain charm for the artist in the mere act of creating; he may 
also look forward with keen pleasure to the completion of his 


500 C. W. Ε. MILLER. 


work, and he may even display an affection for the finished prod- 
uct of his skill comparable to that with which a parent views his 
offspring ; but his joy will be full only when his work has found 
appreciative hearers, readers, or admirers, and when its merits 
have been recognized and acknowledged by intelligent critics. If 
this is true of the sculptor, the painter, the musical composer, and 
other artists, it is certainly true of the poet. Take away the 
reader, the hearer, the admirer, and poetry would soon practically 
become extinct. Under normal conditions, then, poetry is meant 
to be heard or to be read. But by whom? The poet’s mission 
is ordinarily not confined to any single individual or class, but he 
strives to reach everybody. Poetry is essentially of the people 
and for the people, and our great poets speak to their country- 
men at large without reference to social distinctions or intellec- 
tual attainments. ‘He that hath ears to hear, let him hear,” 
saith the poet as well as the preacher. 

It is evident, then, that if poetry—rhythm and all—is not in- 
tended simply for the poet’s own amusement but is primarily 
designed for others than the poet himself, the rhythm must be 
expressed in such a way as to be intelligible to the reader, just as 
the thought must be clothed in a language that will be understood 
by those to whom the thought is to be communicated, for without 
an intelligible medium of expression neither thought nor rhythm 
can be discerned. From the very nature of the case, then, just 
as the poet is forced to employ the mother-tongue of the reader 
or hearer as the vehicle of expressing his thoughts, so he is com- 
pelled to use the rhythm of the mother-tongue of the reader or 
hearer as the basis of his own rhythm; for language is the com- 
mon carrier of both thought and rhythm. In other words, when 
the poet is writing iambic, trochaic, dactylic, or anapaestic 
rhythm, the rhythm that results when the reader reads such 
poetry according to his natural way of speaking, must be iambic, 
trochaic, dactylic, or anapaestic, as the case may be. 

If the above be true, it follows that the adoption of a purely 
artificial basis of rhythm, or the adoption of foreign principles of 
rhythm, is altogether excluded. But for the sake of viewing the 
matter in all its aspects, let us suppose that an English poet did 
write an English poem which was based upon the principles of 
rhythm of Ancient Greek, if such a thing were possible, or, if it 
be preferred, let the laws of rhythm employed be those of the 


RHYTHM OF POETRY & THE SPOKEN LANGUAGE, 501 


French language; it matters not; the result would be the same 
in each case: no English-speaking person would comprehend the 
rhythm, if he followed the ordinary pronunciation of the Eng- 
lish language, and if, by a previous knowledge of the poet’s inten- 
tion and by dint of extra effort, he should succeed in rendering 
the poem in such a way as to bring out the intended rhythm, the 
result would be gibberish and the reader would not be able to 
follow the sense and much less impart it to others. So the result 
of the experiment would be either a loss of the rhythm, and we 
should have the case of a poet consciously undertaking a very 
difficult, if not Herculean, task, all to no purpose, a thing which 
it is scarcely possible to conceive as happening in reality; or, if 
the rhythm were maintained, the sense would be lost, and the 
poet confronted with an alternative even more absurd than the 
other. 

Having shown that the principle enunciated by us is true on 
a priori grounds, let us now look at some of the actual facts, as 
far as we are able to observe them. That the principle holds 
good for English, German, Norwegian, French, and Modern 
Greek, all those that are conversant with the facts will readily 
admit. Any English, German, Norwegian, French, or Greek 
man, woman, or child that knows his mother-tongue and can read 
with any degree of ease, whether he has any scientific knowledge 
of rhythm or not, nay, even without knowing that there is such 
a thing as rhythm, can and does without any effort bring out in 
his reading the ordinary rhythms of his native poetry, and the 
fewer the rhythmic licenses in which the poet has indulged, the 
more exactly will the rhythm of the reading correspond with the 
rhythm designed by the poet. 

Though the writer of this article cannot speak from personal 
observation and experience about other languages than those 
mentioned above, yet there is sufficient variety in these to warrant 
the inference that the same state of affairs as has just been 
described prevails also in the case of all the other European 
languages in which a well-defined rhythm is the concomitant of 
poetry. If only the Teutonic group of languages were repre- 
sented, one might be in doubt as to whether the principle would 
hold good in any of the Romance languages, or in Modern 
Greek; but when three so dissimilar languages as the German, 
the French, and the Modern Greek afford evidence of the truth 


502 σι Σ Ε. MILLER. 


of the principle for which we are contending, the only safe 
inference is the one presented above, and we can confidently 
assume the validity of the principle for all the languages that fall 
under the scope of the present investigation. 

Before taking up the question of the applicability of the prin- 
ciple to Ancient Greek, it may be well to state that the author, of 
course, recognizes the fact that the truth of the principle in the 
case of the more familiar modern languages must have been 
apparent to many persons even before the author’s publication of 
his views, and that it must have appeared to others independently 
since. So, for example, as early as 1871, Briicke in his Physio- 
logische Grundlagen der neuhochdeutschen Verskunst, p. 1, says: 
“Ich glaube nicht auf den Widerspruch des Lesers zu stossen, 
wenn ich von dem Grundsatze ausgehe, dass ein Vers um so 
correcter sei, je weniger man sich beim scandiren desselben in 
storender Weise von der prosaischen Aussprache zu entfernen 
braucht.” 

Lanier’s whole Science of English Verse (1880) is based upon 
a recognition of this principle for English. Thus, on page 73 f. is 
found the statement: ‘We have found, first, that an ordinary 
English reader, in coming upon the line, 

Rhythmical roundelays wavering downward, 


would immediately recognize in it the rhythmic movement noted 
in the musical scheme... By what signs is this recognition 
made?” 

“To this question there can be but one answer: The English 
habit of uttering words, prose or verse (the italics are not Lanier’s), 
is to give each sound of each word a duration which is either equal 
or simply proportionate to the duration of each other sound; and, 
since these simple proportions enable the ear to make those exact 
co-ordinations of duration which result in the perception of pri- 
mary rhythm, we may say that all English word-sounds are 
primarily rhythmical, and therefore that the signs of those sounds 
—that is, written or printed words—are in reality also signs of 
primary rhythm; so that we may say further, Written or printed 
English words constitute a sort of system of notation for primary 
rhythm.” 

“But this is not all. We found, secondly, that an ordinary 
English reader, in coming upon the line, 


Rhythmical roundelays wavering downward, 


RHYTHM OF POETRY & THE SPOKEN LANGUAGE. 503 


would recognize not only the simple relations in time among the 
verse-sounds which suggest primary rhythm, but would also 
recognize a certain grouping of these sounds which was intended 
by the writer and which constitutes their secondary rhythm, 
to wit, the grouping of the eleven syllables into four bars, each 
bar equal in its time to each other bar, εἴς. 

Compare also what the same writer says on page 117 of his 
work: ‘‘(1) Primary rhythm is the result of simple time-relations 
between individual verse-sounds. (2) The English habit of 
utterance in current speech is to deliver the sounds in some sort 
of primary rhythm. (3) The particular sort of primary rhythm 
thus given varies with different speakers, but only within such 
limits as allow every speaker (the italics are not Lanier’s) to pre- 
serve without difficulty the larger time-relations of bar to bar in 
secondary rhythm. (4) In consequence of the habit mentioned, 
words have become so associated with their rhythms as to suggest 
them when written or printed and thus to become a system of 
notation for rhythm.” 

Even Westphal, when he is not brought face to face with the 
perplexing problem of accounting for the seeming difference 
between the pronunciation of Greek poetry and that of prose, 
recognizes the principle at least for German; for on page 116 of 
his Allgemeine Metrik (1892) he expresses himself in favor of 
Briicke’s view as follows: ‘“‘Oftmals genug kommt es vor, dass 
unsere besten Dichter auch eine Flexionssylbe im Verse zur 
rhythmischen Hebungssylbe machen. Nur muss man dabei mit 
E. Briicke von dem Grundsatze ausgehen, dass ein Vers um so 
correcter ist, je weniger man beim Scandiren der Verse in storen- 
der Weise von der Aussprache der Prosa sich zu entfernen 
braucht.’” 

But it is high time for us to direct our attention to Ancient 
Greek. The same a priorz reasoning that led us to accept the 
principle in the case of other languages would lead us to accept 
it also in the case of Ancient Greek. It may be well to note, it is 
true, that music and the dance played a prominent part in Greek 


1The above was written before the appearance of Chapters on Greek 
Metric, by Thomas Dwight Goodell, New York, tg01. It is a source of 
great satisfaction to the writer of this article to note that Goodell also 
(pp. τ f£.) unreservedly recognizes, for English, German, and Ancient 
Greek, the principle which this paper is seeking to establish. 


504 C. W. Ε. MILLER. 


poetry. But as the Greeks employed no system of notation for 
expressing the rhythm of the musical and orchestic accompani- 
ment of their poetry other than that which was contained in the 
language itself, and as the music and dance, if any, were simple 
and were in general subordinated to the words, the conditions 
in Greek, so far as the relation of the rhythm of poetry to that 
of the spoken language is concerned, could not have been essen- 
tially different from those which prevailed in other languages. 

Furthermore, the overwhelming mass of the testimony of the 
ancients themselves points in the direction of our theory. The 
limits of this paper preclude the presentation of all this testimony 
and it would be wearisome to quote even the familiar remarks 
of Aristotle and of Dionysius of Halicarnassus. Among other 
works that might be mentioned as presenting more or less of this 
testimony, may be cited De wit atgue indole rhythmorum quid 
veteres tudicaverint, Breslau, 1887 (=Breslauer phil. Abh. I, 3), 
by G. Amsel, who gives a formidable array of quotations and 
references on the subject. Without stopping, then, for a detailed 
discussion of these passages we shall content ourselves with 
calling attention, on the one hand, to Plato’s views regarding the 
rhythm of poetry, and, on the other hand, to the important place 
assigned to rhythm in the artistic elaboration of Ancient Greek 
prose." 

The manner in which Plato, in the Republic, discusses rhythm, 
and the importance which he, from an educational point of view, 
attaches to the character of the rhythms employed, plainly show 
that rhythm was a feature of poetry that was universally recog- 
nized and whose effect was universally felt. It does not seem 
reasonable to suppose that this recognition was made possible 
only by the instruction received at school and that it was not 
primarily due to the conformity of the rhythm of poetry with the 
rhythm of the spoken language. On the other hand it is impos- 
sible to conceive that Plato, Isocrates, Demosthenes, and other 
Greek prose writers should have paid so much attention to 
rhythm, and that the works or teachings of the Greek rhetoricians 
should be fraught with such minute observations and explicit 


1 For the proper appreciation of the part played by rhythm in the elabora- 
tion of Greek prose, a study of Blass’ Attische Beredsamkeit and of Nor- 
den’s Antike Kunstprosa is indispensable. 


RHYTHM OF POETRY & THE SPOKEN LANGUAGE. 595 


instructions on this subject, if rhythm had not been intended for 
artistic effect. Now this effect would have been entirely lost if 
the rhythm had not been properly brought out in the delivery of 
the works referred to, or had not been observed when these works 
were read. But this would have been impossible unless the 
rhythm had been based upon the rhythm of the spoken 
language. For surely the orator could not possibly have pro- 
nounced his oration on a rhythmical basis entirely distinct from 
that of his ordinary pronunciation, and if, for the sake of argu- 
ment, the possibility of such a feat might be granted, the audience 
could but ill have understood him, if it understood him at all; 
and, on the other hand, it is preposterous to suppose that the 
ordinary Athenian reader could have discarded his ordinary 
rhythmical utterance of prose and adopted therefor a purely 
artificial one for the sole purpose of enjoying, during his reading, 
the beauties of a purely artificial rhythm. Hence, as the artistic 
rhythm of prose was based upon the same principles as the 
rhythm of poetry,’ it follows that the rhythm of poetry must have 
been based upon the rhythm of the spoken language. 

But the same result may be reached in another way by simply 
confining our attention to one particular feature of the testimony 
of the ancients. It is well known that the employment in prose 
of averse of any of the ordinary rhythms, as, for example, an 
iambic trimeter, or a dactylic hexameter, or a trochaic tetrameter, 
was regarded by the ancient rhetoricians as a blemish. This fact 
shows that such verses, if present in prose, must have been 
noticed by the average reader or hearer, even when the reader or 
hearer was unprepared for them, and this ability on the part of 
the reader or hearer would be inconceivable unless the rhythm in 
question had been a reflex of that of the spoken language. Now, 
since it is perfectly certain that an iambic, trochaic, or dactylic verse 


1Compare Amsel, I. c., page 26: “ Oratores autem quin suos numeros a 
poetis quasi mutuati sint, in dubitationem vocari nequit. ... Sed cum 
rhythmorum in prosa oratione usurpatorum natura eadem sit atque metro- 
rum, quibus carmina efficiuntur, consentaneum est indolem quoque eorum 
fere esse parem. Quare non solum universa brevium et longarum sylla- 
barum, rhythmorum ascendentium et descendentium vis eadem fere est in 
orationibus atque in carminibus, sed etiam ubicumque de singulis pedibus 
rhetores iudicium faciunt, animis eorum obversantur versus ex his pedibus 
contexti.’’ 


506 σι W. E. MILLER. 


in poetry differed in no respect from one that happened to be 
employed in prose, except that the latter was unexpected, and since 
the rhythm of the prose verse, as we have just seen, must have 
been a reflex of the rhythm of the spoken language, we are again 
forced to the conclusion that the rhythm of poetry was based 
upon the rhythm of the spoken language. 

It now remains for us briefly to discuss some of the reasons that 
have prevented the proper recognition of the principle here advo- 
cated, and that have made it possible, especially in the case of 
Ancient Greek, for the traditional view to hold its own with such 
a degree of tenacity. The first of these reasons inheres in the 
very nature of the rhythm of poetry. For, after all, no matter 
how artistically and how skilfully used, poetical rhythm serves as 
an artificial restraint upon the language. Language does not 
naturally run in uniform rhythms; not all words are iambi, or 
trochees, or dactyls, or anapaests. To secure a uniform move- 
ment the poet has to resort to a process of selection and 
re-arrangement, and in the course of this process of selection and 
re-arrangement he at times does violence to the rhythm of the 
spoken language as he does to the grammar and to the diction. 
But as there is usually some excuse for the deviations in gram- 
mar and diction, and, indeed, a portion of the poet’s art may 
consist in the skilful use of these very deviations, so there is 
usually some excuse for the deviations from the rhythm of the 
spoken language, and the rhythmical artist will show his supe- 
riority also in the way in which he admits these variations. Some 
of them may be survivals from earlier periods, which have become 
a part of the rhythmical paraphernalia of the poet’s workshop. 
This is true notoriously of the employment of mute e¢ in modern 
French poetry in a manner that is largely at variance with the 
usage of the spoken language. Other deviations may be so skil- 
fully employed as to be noticeable only when the verse in which 
they occur is taken out of its context, whereas in continuous 
recitation or reading they escape observation. This becomes 
possible by the momentum, if we may call it so, of the rhythm. 
The type of the rhythm has been set up and the reader’s mind, 
in accordance with the law of inertia, unconsciously continues in 
the same movement. This factor is one that is of the utmost 
importance, and it unquestionably played quite as prominent a 
réle in Ancient Greek as it does in modern languages. The fol- 


RHYTHM OF POETRY & THE SPOKEN LANGUAGE. 507 


lowing lines of Tennyson’s Princess may serve as an illustration: 


A great broad-shoulder’d genial Englishman, 
A Jord of fat prize-oxen and of sheep, 

A raiser of huge melons and of pine, 

A patron of some thirty charities. 


These lines, if read singly, and without a knowledge of the con- 
text, would certainly not be suspected of being heroic verse, and 
yet, when taken in conjunction with the preceding portion of the 
poem, they are naturally read as heroic verse and one would not 
at first sight notice that in prose they would be read otherwise. 

Even those seemingly more serious variations that are brought 
about by placing the rhythmical accent upon an unaccented final 
syllable may be concealed by a little manipulation, which consists 
in a dissociation of the pitch and stress on the one hand and the 
rhythmical accent on the other hand, the stem-syllable retaining 
the pitch and stress elements of its normal accent and thus doing 
partial justice to the language, whilst the requirements of the 
verse are met by placing the rhythmical accent on the ending. 
Thus, if in the following two verses from Tennyson’s /dy/s of 
the King, 


Darkening the world. We have lost him: he is gone 
and 
Wearing the white flower of a blameless life, 


the words “darkening ”’ and “ wearing’”’ are pronounced some- 
what as the words “ Thine are”’ in the fifth verse of Tennyson’s 
In Memoriam, 


Thine are these orbs of light and shade, 


the word “thine”, because of the emphasis, receiving a higher 
pitch and greater stress than the word ‘are’, and the word “‘are”’ 
receiving the rhythmical value demanded by the verse,’ no per- 
ceptible violence will be done to the language and we escape the 
shock of the sudden transition from ascending rhythm in a number 
of successive verses to descending rhythm in a single verse 
followed by just as sudden a return to ascending rhythm in the 
very next line. 


1For a different view of the matter, see J. W. Bright, Publications of the 
Modern Language Association, XIV (1899), pp. 364 ff. 


508 C. W. BE. MILLER. 


But apart from all these deviations which are perfectly justifi- 
able, there are others that are less so, and these are occasionally 
indulged in even by poets that are distinguished for their fine 
rhythmical feeling. So, for example, a verse like the following 
from Tennyson’s Princess, 


Blacken’d about us, bats wheel’d, and owls whoop’d, 


does not fall naturally into the movement of heroic verse, and any 
large number of such verses would be fatal to fine rhythmical 
effect. 

Now all these greater and lesser, justifiable and unjustifiable 
deviations have a tendency to obscure the true relationship sub- 
sisting between the rhythm of poetry and that of the spoken 
language, and it is, perhaps, not surprising, after all, that there are 
found those who would deny the existence of any relationship 
whatsoever between poetry and the spoken language in the matter 
of rhythm. 

The second great reason that has served to keep our principle 
in the background arises from the physiological and mechanical 
difficulties that are encountered in the analysis of the sounds of 
the spoken language. Thus, whilst the average person will 
readily admit that every musical sound possesses at least four 
characteristics, viz., quality, quantity, stress, and pitch, and whilst 
he may be able fairly well to distinguish these four characteristics 
in the case of vocal music, few persons would, perhaps, feel per- 
fectly safe in admitting the presence of these four factors in the 
sounds of the spoken language, and very few, indeed, are there 
whose ear is sufficiently well trained to enable them, in the case 
of spoken sounds, to distinguish even roughly between the four 
qualities, not to speak of measuring them. The truth is that the 
human ear, though capable of the most marvelous development 
in the matter of recognizing minute variations of quantity, stress, 
and pitch, is at best an imperfect instrument, and so rapid are the 
changes that take place in the quantity, stress, and pitch of the 
sounds of the spoken language that even those who think they 
have discerned certain relationships between spoken sounds 
hesitate to express very positive views on the subject for fear of 
being mistaken, and the average person, appalled by the difficul- 
ties, is satisfied to leave the problem unsolved. Neither does 
physics come to our rescue. For, wonderful as have been the 


RHYTHM OF POETRY & THE SPOKEN LANGUAGE. 509 


results obtained in the investigation of vocal sounds by the aid of 
ingenious physical apparatus, no instrument has as yet been 
devised that will simultaneously determine the absolute or relative 
values of the quantity, stress, and pitch of the sounds of a sentence 
of even moderate length. 

But great as may be the obstacles occasioned by the physical 
limitations described in the previous section and by the artificial 
restrictions imposed on language by the very nature of rhythm, 
greater still are the barriers to a proper understanding of the 
subject under discussion that have been caused by the great 
difference between the Teutonic languages and Modern Greek 
on the one hand and Ancient Greek on the other so far as the 
interrelationship of the elements of pitch, quantity, and stress is 
concerned. Modern Greeks were the teachers of the western 
nations in the study of Ancient Greek. As these teachers were 
unable to read Ancient Greek verse without a great deal of 
practice, the belief arose that Ancient Greek poetry was con- 
structed according to an artificial system of versification. Now 
the Teuton, while experiencing the same difficulty with respect to 
Ancient Greek as did his Modern Greek teacher, found no diffi- 
culty whatever in mastering Modern Greek rhythms, a Modern 
Greek word being pronounced just as an English word that has 
the same number of syllables and that is accented on the same 
syllable as that which bears the Greek written accent. It was 
quite natural, then, that the belief regarding the artificiality of 
Ancient Greek rhythm should have found a firm lodgment in the 
mind of the Teutonic scholar. 

Furthermore, as Modern Greek rhythm is regulated principally 
by the written accent just as English or German rhythm is regu- 
lated by the so-called word-accent, and as the principal point in 
connection with the writing of Classic verse was to know the 
quantities of the syllables of the Classic languages, the versification 
of these languages was said to be quantitative, whilst that of the 
Teutonic languages and Modern Greek was said to be accentual. 
Now as the word accent is used in a variety of significations it 
became necessary, of course, to define the meaning of the word 
accentual. Inasmuch as the accentual principle was supposed to 
be radically different from the quantitative principle, guantity was 
excluded ; everybody knew that the term did not apply to t7mdre; 
a slight knowledge of music was sufficient to show that Aztch did 


510 ΟΖ ΤΩ, 


not determine rhythm; so the only thing left was to suppose that 
accent was tantamount to s/ress.' The inevitable result of this 
false notion has been the growth of a belief in the existence 
of two distinct kinds of rhythm, one based upon quantity, 
the other based upon stress,’ and it is precisely this erroneous 
belief that has to a large extent been the cause of the 


1This false view seems to have been perpetuated in the term exfiratory 
as applied to the accent of Modern Greek (Brugmann, Gr. Gram.*® §143) 
and of the Teutonic and other languages (Hirt, Der Indogermanische Akzent, 
pp-1o and 47), though Hirt after accepting the current classification of word- 
accent as musical and expiratory is careful to add that probably both kinds 
of accent exist in every language, and he does not fail to call attention to 
the existence in the modern Germanic dialects of a well-developed so-called 
musical accent. The fact of the matter is that the current classification is 
misleading, and any definition of the word-accent of any particular language 
that fails totake into account the three factors of pitch, stress, and quantity, 
fails to give an adequate idea of the nature of suchaccent. Now whilst there 
is still a great deal to be learned in regard to the word-accent of English or 
German, not to mention Ancient Greek, yet the most palpable difference, 
as the writer sees it, between the word-accent of English or German and 
that of Ancient Greek is this: The German, or the English, word-accent 
contains in addition to the stress element a decided pitch element, and as 
the word-accent is also the regulator of the rhythm, the quantitative 
element must also be reckoned with, for without a symmetrical distribution 
of time-values rhythm is impossible. It will be seen, then, that in English 
and German there is a tendency to combine prominence of pitch, stress, 
and quantity on one syllable, whereas in Ancient Greek there is often a 
tendency to dissociate prominence of pitch from prominence of either or 
both of the other two factors. To Christ (1. c., p. 4) belongs the credit of 
having pointed out, as early as 1879, the essential difference between the 
accent of German and that of Ancient Greek. 

2 One of the latest adherents of this view is G. Schultz, who in Hermes 
XXXV (1900), p. 314, uses the following language: “ Man pflegt den Unter- 
schied im Versbau der antiken und der neueren Zeit so zu bestimmen, dass 
man jenen als quantitirend, diesen als accentuirend bezeichnet. Die Verse 
der Alten bauen sich auf der Lange und Kiirze der Silben auf, die unsrigen 
auf der verschiedenen Tonstdirke (the italics are mine). Dieser Unterschied 
ist, wie man meinen sollte, offenkundig und allgemein bekannt.. . Zs giebt 
in der antiken Poesie keinen Versaccent (the italics are Schultz’s). Dieser 
Satz beruht zunachst auf einer allgemeinen Erwagung. Wo bleibt denn der 
Unterschied zwischen accentuirendem und quantitirendem Versbau, wenn 
auch dieser wiederum der Accente bedarf (the italics are mine)?”’ It ishardto 
escape the conclusion that Schultz, in addition to limiting the German word- 
accent to stress and believing in a rhythm based on stress versus a rhythm 
based on quantity, is also confounding rhythmical accent and word-accent. 


RHYTHM OF POETRY & THE SPOKEN LANGUAGE, 51 


persistence of the idea as to a purely artificial basis of the 
rhythm of poetry and that has blinded the eyes of scholars in 
regard to the true nature of the rhythm of Ancient Greek. 

Let us now rapidly survey the ground that we have covered. 
In the first place, the principle was advanced that under normal 
conditions the rhythm of poetry is based upon that of the spoken 
language. Secondly, it was shown that the principle is probable 
on @ priori grounds, that it actually holds good for a number of 
languages, and that therefore there is a strong presumption in its 
favor in the case of all languages whose poetry is characterized 
by artistic rhythm. Thirdly, it was pointed out that the same 
a priori reasoning applies also in the case of Ancient Greek and 
that our position is sustained by the overwhelming mass of the 
testimony of the ancients. In the last place, some of the reasons 
were pointed out that have kept the principle in the background 
and that have made it possible, especially in the case of Ancient 
Greek, for the traditional view to hold its own with such a degree 
of tenacity. 

It would seem high time, then, to abandon the view that 
Ancient Greek rhythm was based upon principles that were 
purely artificial and foreign to the genius of the language, and it 
ought to be distinctly understood that the reason why the average 
English or German student, in spite of a normally developed 
rhythmical feeling, cannot read his Homeric hexameter or iambic 
trimeter without special preparation and without a forewarning, 
is that he is in the habit of pronouncing his Greek according to 
the laws of English or German rhythm and not according to the 
laws of Ancient Greek rhythm. 

Jouns Hopkins University, C. W. E. MILLER. 





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Aor 
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ΠΟΥ tn} 





INDEX 


Ablative of Quality, Jugenium in the, 301-14 
Abstract gods, 45 
ac and atgue, Use of, in Silver Latin, 413-25 


Accent, Classification and nature of, 509 f. 
Motion of the voice in connection 
with, 57-76 
Accusative, Greek, 263 f. 
Acropolis at Athens, 249-51 
Aad Catull. XXX 4-5, 29-36 


Adityas, Meaning and etymology of, 45 
Adjectives in -Guus, -Grius, -inus, 95 f., 99 ff. 
Admetus, Character of, in Euripides’ Al- 


cestis, 332-7 
Adonic verse, 139 
Adverbial use of prepositions in Homer, 

183-4, 187 
Adversative use of participle, 451-3 
ἀείδειν (ᾷδειν), 212 f., 216 ff. 
Aemilius Paulus, 80 
Aegui bonique facere, Syntax of, 135 
Aeschylus, Pentapody in, 147 
The Metaphor in, 483-96 
Agora of Athens, 247-9 
Alcaeus, Pentapody in, 142 
Alcestis of Euripides, 329-38 
Alcman, Pentapody in, 141 
Alcuin’s attitude toward Vergil, 377-86 
ALEXANDER, W. J., 169-80 
ALLINSON, FRANCIs G., 353-6 
Alliteration in Shakspere’s Sonnets, 368 f. 
ἄλλο τι (ἢ), Use of, in Plato, 432 
Ambrosianus of Terence, Pictures in, 277 
Ameretat, 46 
Anacreon, Pentapody ir, 145 
Ancestors, Worship of, 87-94 
Ancyranum, Monumentum, 77, 82 
Andrew, nite 
-anus, Use of, Q5-111 
aovdol, 211, 213, 218, 226 
Aphrodite, Variations of name of, 44 
Apollonius Rhodius, The Participle in, 
449-70 
Apostolic Commission, The, 1-18 
dpa, Use of, in questions, 429 f. 
dpa μή, Use of, in questions, 427-34 
Archilochus, Pentapody in, 137, 139 
Singing of verses of, 22: ἴ. 
Aristophanes, The Athens of, 241-52 


—drius, Possessive use of, 104 


33 


~ 





Arnold, M., ‘ Balder Dead,’ 


19-28 
Arrian, μή for ov in, 477 f. 
Arsis, Accentual and rhythmical, 68-76 


Musical signification of, 67 


Assonance in Shakspere’s Sonnets, 370 ff. 
Assyrian Empire, Fall of, 113-22 
Athenian in his Relation to the State, 87-04 
Athens of Aristophanes, The, 241-52 
atqgue and ac in Silver Latin, 413-25 
Attica in Aristophanes, 241-4 
Augustus Princeps, 77-86 


Automorphism (animism), 39 


av from ov, 189-203 
Bacchylides, Pentapody in, 146 
Balder’s burial, Arnold’s version of, 26-7 
Baptism, rif, 
Barnabas, 2,4 
Barsabbas-Justus, Joseph, atts 
Bartholomew, rf, 
Basorg, JOHN W., 273-85 
Beginning, Verbs of, with participle, 466 f. 
BLOOMFIELD, MAuvrICE, 37-48 
Botiinc, GroRGE MELVILLE, 449-70 
boni consulere, Syntax of, 134 
Brahma, Origin of, 47 
Brethren, Five hundred, 5 

One hundred and twenty, 3-5 
BricGs, CHARLES A., 1-18 


Browning’s view of Heracles in Euripi- 


des’ Alcestis, 337 
cadere=decidere, 51 
Caesareanus (-tanus), Occurrence of, 104 
Caesarinus, Occurrence of, 103 
Caesura in Shakspere’s Sonnets, 372 f. 
CARROLL, MITCHELL, 241-52 


Case Construction of Verbs of Sight and 


Hearing in Greek, 263-71 
Cases, Greek, 263-6 
Catullus, XXX, 4-5, 29-36 
Causal use of participle, 454 f. 


Cenotaphium Pisanum, 84 

Chiasmus in the Epistles of Cicero, Sen- 
eca, Pliny and Fronto, 339-52 

Christian writers’ attitude toward pagan 


literature, 378-80 
Cicero, ad Fam. VII, 32, 1, Interpreta- 

tion of, 403 

Chiasmus in, 340-2 


514 


Cicero, The Greeting in the Letters of, 
395-404 

Cicero Attico Sal., 401-2 

Classical treatment of a Romantic sub- 


ject, 19-28 
claudere=concludere, 51 
Comedy, Relation of, to life, 274 f. 


Condition, Ideal, On the theory of, in 


Latin, 253-61 
Conditional use of participle, 455 f. 
Cynegeticus, 446 
Dactylo-epitrite pentapodies, 138, 142 


Dance, 205, 206, 211 
Delbriick (B.) on the order of words, 
230, 233 f. 
Demes of Attica, 243 f. 
Di certi, 47 
Atkopos, 287-300 
Dio Cassius 53, 13; 57, 8, 85 
Political vision of, 78 
Dio Chrysostomus, «7 for ov in, 477 
Oration XI of, 405-12 
Diodorus Siculus, μή for οὐ in, 473 


Dionysius Halicarnaseus, μή for ovin, 474 


Disciple, Ds 5 fo, DU ἢν, Ὁ Ἐ 
| ducere=educere, 51 
Dunelmensis of Terence, Pictures in, 277 
7, Use of, in questions, 432 
Exps.inc, HERMAN Loults, 229-40 
Eddaic story of Balder’s burial, 26-7 
Epwarps, GEORGE VAIL, 301-14 
Ermer, H.C., 123-9 
Emotion, Verbs of, with participle, 467 f. 


Emphasis in connection with the order 


of words, 230 ff. 
Epic poetry, Dramatic and lyric ante- 
cedents of, 209 
Epyllia in Homer, 210 
Etymological (verbal) gods, 43 
Etymologies, 189-203 
Euhemerism, 37 
Euripides as a dramatic artist, 330 ff. 
Hipp. 1276, 443-7 
Interpretation of the Alcestis of, 329-38 
Pentapody in, 147 
Relation of, to the Cynegeticus, 447 
Evil eye, 287 ff. 
Expiratory accent, 510 
FarrcLouGu, H. Rusuton, 205-27 
Father-worship, 38 
Fay, Epwin W., 189-203 
Serre=afferre, 51 
Jjindere=difiindere, 51 
Fingers, Use of, in gesture, 275 f. 
Folk-Lore, 287-300, 315-27 
Fronto, Chiasmus in, 350-2 





INDEX. 


Genitive, Greek, 264 f., 268 
Genitive of Quality, Jxgenium in the, 301-14 
Gentile adjectives, 106-111 
Gesture, Portraiture of, in MSS of Ter- 


ence, 278 ff. 
Glyconic verse, 139 
Gorgianic figures in Lucian, 391-2 
GREEN, Epwin L., 471-9 


Greeting, The, in the Letters of Cicero, 


395-404 
Grudge, Origin of goddess, 46 
Gyges, The story of, 290 
haerere=inhaerere, 52 
Haccett, A.S., 181-7 
Harry, J. E., 427-34 
Haurvatat, 46 
Hearing, Case after verbs of, 263-71 
HeEnprickson, G. L., 151-68 


Heracles, Character of, inthe Alcestis, 337 
Hero-worship, 38 
Herodotus and Lucian, 387-93 
Homer, Dramatic and lyric elements in, 


209 ff. 
The Uses of the Prepositions in, 181-7 
Homeric criticism, 405 ff. 


Homeric Echoes in Matthew Arnold’s 


‘ Balder dead,’ 19-28 
Homeric Hymns, 215, 218 
Homophones in Later Greek, 353-6 


Horace and Lucilius: A Study of Hor- 


ace, Serm. 1, το, 151-68 
Carm. I, 2, 49, 86 
Sat. 11, 5, 32, The praenomen in, 403 

Hymenaeus, The, in Homer, 209 
-ianus, Use of, 97 ἢ. 


Ibycus, Pentapody in, 145 
ID, The Etymology and Meaning of the 
Sanskrit Root, 357-61 
Ideal Condition, On the theory of, in 
Latin, 253-61 
idénya, Use of, 360 
Imitation of Homer in ‘ Balder Dead,’ 19-27 
Indicative Questions with μή and dpa μή, 
427-34 
Ingenium in the Ablative of Quality and 


the Genitive of Quality, 301-14 
Inheritance system of the Athenians, 87-94 
Intercalary verse, 319 ff. 
-inus, Use of, Ο5-ἼΙΙ 
Ion, A Tragic Fragment of, 481 f. 
Isaeus, Value of, for Athenian life, 87-94 
Itacism, 353-6 
James, 1 ff. 
Jesus, Commands of, το ff., 17 f. 
John, brother of James, 1 ff. 


INDEX. 


Joxunson, CHARLEs W.L., 57-76 
JouHNSTON, CHRISTOPHER, 113-22 
Judas Iscariot, Tift, 20if. 


Jude, brother of Jesus, 4 
Justin Martyr, μή for οὐ in, 478 


Kaibel (G.) on the order of words, 233 
Kalevala, Absence of strophic divisionin, 219 


Kara-Kirghiz, Epic songs of, 226 
Kern, JAMEs W., 263-71 
κίνησις τῆς φωνῆς, 57, 61, 64-8 
Kirk, Witt1aAM HamILTon, 29-36 
Knowledge, Plato’s theory of, 169-80 
Lainc, Gorpon J., 131-6 
Lanier’s view of quantity in English 
verse, 502 ἴ. 
Aav@avw with participle, 466 
Latin Verbs of Rating, Notes on, 131-6 
Leasz, Emory B., 413-25 
Legs, Jas. T., 483-96 
Linus, The, in Homer, 210 f, 
LopcGz, GONZALEZ, 253-61 
Lone, OmzRA FLoyp, 377-86 
Lucian, μή for οὐ before, 471-9 
Lucian’s Syrian Goddess, Notes on, 387-93 
Lucilius, Attitude of Horace toward, 151-63 
Lydus, de mag. reip. Rom. 1, 4t, 165-6 
Magic colors (red, white, black), 324 
Magic in Theokritos and Vergil, 315-27 
Mark, John, 16 
Marriage among Athenians, 87-94 
Mary, mother of Jesus, 4 
mother of Mark, 16 
Matthew (Levi), ΧΙ 
Matthias, 3 f. 
μή for ov before Lucian, 471-9 
Use of, in questions, 427-34 
Metaphor in Aeschylus, 483-96 
Metre, 68-76 
Military honors paid to dead heroes, 23 
Mittegr, C. W. E., 497-511 
Miniatures in the MSS of Terence, The 
Scenic Value of the, 273-85 
Miraculous powers, 15 
Monodactylic logaoedic Jines, 139 
Monosyllabic verse in Shakspere’s Son- 
nets, 367 
MontTGomery, WALTER Α,, 405-12 
Monumentum Ancyranum, 77, 82 


Moon-colors, The, 325 
Motion of the Voice in Connection with 
Accent and Accentual Arsis and 
Thesis, 57-76 
Murray, Aucustus TaBErR, 329-38 
Music and Poetry in Early Greek Litera- 
ture, The Connection between, 205-27 





Music, Ancient, 64-8 
Mustrarp, WILFRED P., 19-28 
Mythology a disease of language, 44 
Nature-worship, 40 
Ne emisses, ne poposcisses, and Similar 
Expressions, 123-9 
Nec (neque), SY it. 
Negative with participle, 461-3 
Ness, JENs A., 357-61 
New Testament, μή for οὐ in, 475 f. 
Objective gods, 47 
Obligation or propriety expressed by 
Latin Subjunctive, 123-9 


Old High German, Rime-parallelism in, 
435-42 

Optative in Later Greek, On Causes 
Contributory to the Loss ofthe, 353-6 

Order of Words in Greek, Some Statistics 


on, 229-40 
Otfrid, Rime-parallelism in, 435-42 
Ovid's use of pupula duplex, 287 
Paean, The, in Homer, 209 
Papyri, Magic, 316 ff. 
παρακαταλογή, 222 
Parataxis in Lucian, 380 ff. 
Parisinus of Terence, Pictures in, 277 


Participial construction with verbs of 


hearing in Greek, 268 f. 
Participle in Apollonius Rhodius, 449-70 
Particles, Use of, in Lucian, 389-91 
Patronymics in -tzus, 100 
Paul, 2 ff., 15 
Pausanias and Aristophanes compared, 251 f. 
Pzass, E. M., 395-404 
Piraeus in Aristophanes, 245 f. 


pellere=expellere, 52 


Penick, DANIEL A., 387-93 
penst, Syntax of, 135-6 
Pentapody in Greek Poetry, The, 137-49 
Perception, Verbs of, with participle, 463-5 


Periodology in Lucian, 391 
Persius, The Use of the Simple for the 


Compound Verb in, 49-55 
Peter, rit, 2325 
Pherecratean verse, 139 
Philip, rf 
Philodemus, μή for οὐ in, 472 f. 
Phonetic Sequence, An Erroneous, 189-203 
φθάνω with participle, 466 
Pictures in MSS of Terence, 273-85 
Pindar, Pentapody in, 146 
Pisanum, Cenotaphium, 84 
Plato, Aim and Results of the Theae- 

tetus of, 169-80 

Statistics of dpa in, 428 f. 





516 INDEX. 
Plautinus, History of, 102 | Rime-parallelism, 435-42 
Plinius Maior, Use of ac in, 422 f. | rumpere = dirumpere, 53 
Plinius Minor, Chiasmus in, 346-50 Shanna keane M4 eee 
Piutarch, μή for ov in, 476 Sappho; τ πεν ἐπι τῆς 
Pny= in Aristophanes, : baa ἢ τος Satire, Roman, Greek sources of, 156, 163-8 
Poetry, Connection of, with music in Were ot Se ee δ) οἱ 
early Greek literature, 205-27 amnnraneerene ia 
The rhythm of, as related to that of the nia ΣΈΘΕΝ ey 
spoken language, 497-51 | Schéne’s view of the Alcestis, 332 
Polybius, μή for ov in, 472 f. scindere = discindere 53 
Pompeianus, Use of, ξ 108 f. Scorr, Joun ADAMs, δι 
Pompeius, princeps civitatis, 80 f. crnatus, lectin, - 
ponere =apponere, proponere, 52 Seneca, Chiasmus in, er 
Porphyry, Scholia of, 406 ff. Senses, ΞΕ 
Possessive adjectives in-auus, -arius, ‘exten coltienae ΒΕ τὸ ue 
ἀρ ἡ 4 95£.,99 ff | Sermo vulgaris, Possessive adjectives in, 
Postposition of prepositions in Homer, 108 ἢ 
5 : 182-3, 186 | Sepous currens, 285 
Praenomen in vocative of address, 4°3 | Shakspere, The Technic of the Sonnets 
premere=comprimere, 52 of, nee ae 
Prepositions, Uses of, in Homer, 181-7 Ship burial, ἘΣ 
Price, ΤΗΟΒ5. R., 363-75 | Short (C.) on emphasis and the order of 
Princeps, Augustus, 77-86 


princeps iuventutis, 84 


princeps senatus, 78 ff. 
pro with verbs of rating, 131-3 
Pronoun, Plural of, for singular, 29-31 


Pronunciation of prose, Relation of, to 
that of poetry, 497 ff. 
Propriety, Subjunctive of, 123-9 

Prose, Relation of pronunciation of, to 
that of poetry, 497 ff. 
Rhythm of Ancient Greek, 504 f. 

Pupula Duplex. A Comment on Ovid, 


Amores I, 8, 15, 287-300 
Purpose expressed by participle, 456-8 
Quality, Ablative and genitive of, 301-14 


Quantity in English verse, Lanier’s view 


οἵ, 502 ἔ, 
Questions with μή and ἄρα μή, 427-34 
Quintilian X, 1, 93, 164 
radere=eradere, 52 
RADFORD, Rosert S., Q5-IIt 
vrapere =abripere, corripere, 53 
Rating, Latin verbs of, 131-6 
Red (Rohita), The god, 43 
ῥαψῳδία, 210, 215 f., 224 
Rhapsodists, 215 f., 223 ff. 
Rhinthon, Connection of, with Roman 

satire, 165 
Rhyme in Shakspere’s Sonnets, 370 ff. 

Use of, in magical formulae, 318 
Rhythm, 59, 74-5 


Rhythm of Poetry, The Relation of, to 
that of the Spoken Language, 497-511 





words, 231, 234, 235» 237 
Sight, Primitive conception of, 204 
Sight and Hearing, Case-construction of 


verbs of, in Greek, 263-71 
SIH-eER, E. G., 77-86 
Silver Latinity, 49 

Use of atgue and ac in, 413-25 
Simon, ἘΠ 
Simonides, Pentapody in, 145 f. 


Simple verb used for compound in Per- 
sius, 49-55 
Singing of Greek verse, 
212f., 216 f.,219f., 223 ff. 


σκυλάκων, 445 
σκύμνων, ᾿ 445 
SmitH, Kirsy FLower, 287-300 
Solon, Elegies of, 220 
Sonnets of Shakspere, The Technic of, 
363-75 
Sophocles, Pentapody in, 147 
Specialist gods, 45 
ΘΡΙΕΚΒΕ, E. H., 137-49 
Spoken language, Rhythm of, 497-511 
5ΤΕΕΙΕ, Ε. Β., 339-52 
Stesichorus, Hexameters of, 218 
Pentapody in, : 144 
Strabo, μή for ov in, 474 f. 
Stress, Relation of accent to, 507, 509 f. 


Subjunctive of Obligation or Propriety 


in Latin, 123-9 
Suetonius, Revival of suffix -inus by, 106 
Use of ac in, 422 
SuTPHEN, Morris C., 315-27 
Symbolic gods, 37-48 


Tacitus, Use of atgue in, 423 f. 


INDEX. 


tangere=attingere, 53 
Temporal use of participle, 453 f- 
tendere=extendere, 53 
tenere=continere, 53 


Terence, The Scenic Value of the Minia- 


tures in the MSS of, 273-85 
Terpander, 218, 221, 224 f. 
Thaddaeus, Tin 
Theaetetus, Aim and Results of Plato’s, 

169-80 

Theognis, Elegies of, 220 
Theokritos and Vergil, Magic in, 315-27 
Thesis, Accentual and rhythmical, 68-76 
Musical signification of, 67 
Thomas, 15 f. 
Threnus, The, in Homer, 209 
Tmesis in Homer, 183-4, 187 
Tongues, Speaking with, 15 
Trinitarian formula, 10 
τυγχάνω with participle, 466 
ὕμνος, Derivation of, 210 
Vaticanus of Terence, Pictures in, 277 
Verb, Use of simple for compound, 49-55 
Verbal (etymological) gods, 43 
Verbs of rating, Latin, 131-6 





517 


Vergil, The Attitude of Alcuin toward, 


377-89 
Magic in, 315-27 
Verrall’s view of the Alcestis, 332 
Verrinus, History of, 103 
Versification, Quantitative and accent- 
ual, 509 f. 
Theory of, 68-76 
Theory of English, 502 f. 
Theory of Greek, 497 fi. 
Virgiliacus, Origin of the form, 381 
Vocative of address, Praenomen in, 403 


Voice, Motion of, in Connection with 
Accent and Accentual Arsis and 


Thesis, 57-76 
vomere = evomere, 54 
Vos, BERT JOHN, 435-42 
Vor, Correlation of, with Vid, 359 f. 
Wallaschek on primitive music, 206-8 
Way’s view of Admetus’ character, 332 f. 
Weil (H.) on the order of words, 229 
Werewolf, Norse superstition of the, 296 
Witson, Harry LANGFORD, 49-55 
Wish-gods, 46, 48 
Word-accent, 509 f. 

















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